


One I'm Scared Of The Most

by robindrake93



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clueless Dash Baxter, Coming of Age, Confused Dash Baxter, Consensual Underage Sex, Danny Fenton Is Cold, Danny Fenton Is Weird, Danny Fenton Needs A Nap, Enemies to Lovers, House Party, Hurt Danny Fenton, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, POV Third Person, Relationship Negotiation, Secret Identity Fail, Serious Injuries, Sharing Clothes, Timeline What Timeline, kwan is a good bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Dash was just going to check up on Danny and make sure the nerd wasn't trashing his room. He didn't expect to wind up dating him.
Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton
Comments: 73
Kudos: 208





	1. In Which Dash Gets Punched In The Face

**Author's Note:**

> I watched _Attack Of The Killer Garage Sale_ and noticed that Dash didn't look mad until after he saw his room was trashed. And I was curious about what he'd been going upstairs to do...perhaps check on Danny? So this is an AU where Technus doesn't ruin things. I still haven't rewatched the whole (or even most) of the show so forgive me for any timeline mistakes. 
> 
> The title comes from the song [Little Ghost by The White Stripes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTOt6hUz2EQ). 
> 
> If you don't like the font color, click "Hide Creator's Style" at the top and it'll revert to default. 
> 
> Don't reupload/repost my works.

“Dashie,” Paulina said as she pressed up against Dash’s arm. “Where’s your freaky little twink? I haven’t seen him since he got here.” 

“Shoot,” Dash cursed when he realized he hadn’t seen Fenton in a few hours either. “Hang on. I’ll be back.” He freed himself from Paulina’s grip and began moving through the crowd. 

There were so many people dressed how Fenton normally was and it messed with Dash’s head. He had to keep reminding himself that he was looking for the one person dressed in what was actually supposed to be the dress code. Dash made a circuit of the kitchen-living room-foyer-game room-bathroom. He checked outside. If Fenton was still here, then he was upstairs. 

Dash made his way up the stairs. By unspoken consensus, the rest of the party stayed downstairs. The landing wasn’t huge and only contained his room, his mom’s room, and a second bathroom. He checked the bathroom first but no one was inside. Dash went to his bedroom and opened the door. 

Leaving the party and entering his bedroom was like stepping into another dimension. The room was dark except for the surprisingly bright pink glow of his lava lamp. It _felt_ like no one was in the room even though Dash could see Fenton. 

Fenton had pulled Dash’s computer chair across the room and currently had his ass planted in it. His head rested on the dresser and he stared up at the pink lava lamp. Fenton didn’t move, was so still that he looked like he wasn’t breathing. Dash stared at his back. It seemed to take forever for it to rise and fall with breath. 

“What are you doing?” Dash asked, too unnerved to add an insult to that. 

There was no response. 

“Fenton,” Dash said, annoyed at being ignored. His back _was_ moving right? He _was_ breathing? Dash crossed to Fenton. “Hey! Fenton! Are you high or something?” He put his hand on Fenton’s shoulder. Even through the jacket, Fenton felt cold. It wasn’t icy, more like opening the refrigerator, but it was eerie as heck. Dash’s heart skipped a beat in shock. “Danny,” he said, forcefully shaking the boy. 

Fenton moved so fast that Dash only saw a blur of white before pain exploded in his jaw. He felt his jaw pop out of place - a problem he’s had since Dale hit him in the face with a baseball bat when they were in grade school - and stumbled backward. 

Fenton was on his feet, the computer chair knocked over and both hands covering his mouth. His sky blue eyes were wide with shock. “OhmygodIamsosorryDash,” Danny said in a rush without pausing for breath. 

Dash popped his jaw back into place with a click and then rubbed the spot Fenton punched him. “Where the heck did you learn to punch like that?” 

Fenton’s eyes held the fear of an animal trapped; a look that Dash was rather intimately familiar with. “I, uh, ghost hunting,” Fenton said meekly. 

If Fenton could punch like that, why did he let Dash wail on him? It unsettled Dash the same way that most things about Fenton unsettled him. There was something unnerving about Fenton. There was a reason that Fenton went from geek to freak. Though if pressed, Dash couldn’t point out one specific thing. “What are you doing in my room?” 

Fenton looked around like he had no idea where they were. Hastily, he picked up the computer chair and set it right. He kept it between himself and Dash, still pressed against Dash’s dresser. “I’m definitely not hiding,” Fenton said uncertainly. 

Dash raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his hip to one side. 

Fenton’s eyes flicked down, following the motion, then back up. His cheekbones were sharp, Dash noticed absently as he watched the play of pink light cast shadows over Fenton’s face. And his jaw was cut like glass. Fenton looked like he was swimming in the overpriced outfit. He looked so uncomfortable that it made Dash uncomfortable. 

“I’m surprised Pookie didn’t bother you,” Dash said eventually. 

“Who?” Fenton asked, eyes darting around the room. 

Dash pointed to his bed, where Pookie lay curled up, watching them. Fenton wasn’t the first person to go to Dash’s room for a reprieve from the parties. Sometimes people needed to cool off and chill out. Pookie was in here partially to keep him out of the way, and partially to keep the hiders company. 

When Pookie saw them both looking at him, he wagged his little brown tail. But he stayed where he was on the bed. He was getting up there in age and getting down was hard on him. 

Fenton snickered. “ _You_ have a chihuahua?” 

“He was a birthday present,” Dash said, feeling his temper rising. Something about Fenton always got under his skin. 

“I’ve got a dog too. His name’s Cujo. He’s a rottie,” Fenton said. It was probably the first piece of information that Fenton ever willingly shared with Dash. And he sounded genuinely excited talking about his dog. “Cujo’s a rescue.” 

“So’s Pookie,” Dash said, temper cooling. “Look, Fenton, I don’t care if you hang out in here…just don’t break anything.” 

Fenton’s sky blue eyes were drawn back to Dash. He studied him for a few moments, then nodded. “I...I’m sorry about punching you.” 

Dash raised an eyebrow. “Are you?” He asked, a hint of a smile on his face. He knew from experience how good it felt hitting people. 

Fenton nodded and shyly returned Dash’s smile. 

_He looks cute_ , Dash thought. Abruptly, Dash turned on his heel and strode out of his room, shutting the door behind him. His face was hot with a blush. He stood outside his room for a few seconds, out of sight of the party-goers, collecting himself. Everything about that interaction was a rollercoaster ride. 

Dash schooled his features into something relaxed and cool. He went downstairs and rejoined the party. 

Paulina was still in the kitchen, holding a red solo cup with her name sharpied on the side in bubble letters. She brightened when she saw Dash. “Did you find him?” 

“He’s keeping Pookie company,” Dash said with a shrug. He got a new solo cup from the stack and filled it with cream soda. 

“Why isn’t he socializing with _us_?” Paulina whined. She looked annoyed. “Isn’t he grateful he gets to hang out with us?” 

“Didn’t know Fenton was the kind to hide during parties,” Kwan commented from where he was playing soda pong with Star. “I thought he’d be trying to make friends or something.” 

Star brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes. “Is that a bruise or a hickey on your face, Dash?” She asked the question like she didn’t care one way or another, but there was a calculating look in her eyes. 

Kwan and Paulina both gaped at Dash. They zeroed in on the bruise on Dash’s jaw. 

Paulina smiled like the Cheshire Cat. She threw her head back and cackled. “Doesn’t the poor boy know hickies go on the _neck_?” 

Dash was going to die of embarrassment. He wanted to melt into the floor. He wanted to go upstairs and pound Fenton. Dash chuckled nervously, feeling his mask of cool slipping. 

Kwan only cocked his head, one eyebrow raised slightly in question. 

Dash shook his head slightly. No, it wasn’t a hickey. But he couldn’t tell them the truth either; that Fenton had punched him hard enough to leave an instant bruise. 

Kwan smiled and teasingly said, “Good going, Dash. Pound that twink.” He gave Dash an exaggerated wink. 

Star cracked up then, laughing so hard when she let the ping pong ball go that it glanced off a cup and bounced onto the floor. 

Paulina’s giggles built to full laughter and she reached across to slap Kwan’s shoulder. Then she leaned against Dash and nibbled the bruise on his jaw. “Oh, Dash, you’re so big and strong, pin me to the wall,” she crooned, pitching her voice to match Fenton’s. 

Kwan, the traitor, laughed too as Paulina mimed what they thought must have happened. 

Star was doubled over with laughter, mascara-dyed tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Humiliation burned hot through Dash’s body. His chest was uncomfortably tight. He tried to sidle away from Paulina but she’d hooked her arm through his. Now he was going to have a bruise _and_ pink lipstick on his face. 

Their little group was drawing attention. 

Paulina trailed a finger down Dash’s chest. “I mean, you are wearing his shirt.” 

The blush was back in full force. Dash swatted Paulina’s hand away. “I bought this at the store,” he tried to defend himself. 

“Sure you did, sweetie,” Paulina cooed. She finally let him go and stepped back, but only to refill her soda. “It’s okay. We won’t tell Phantom about your new boy toy.” 

Laughter met the comment, drawing Dash’s attention to just how many people were listening in on their conversation. 

This was Dash’s party and he did not have to put up with this. He suddenly found himself longing for the cool darkness of his room, for Pookie on his bed and awkward conversation with Fenton. “Screw all of you,” Dash said, shoving his way through the crowd. 

“Dash, bro, where are you going?” Kwan called after him. 

“Back to his boy toy!” Star gasped between boughs of laughter. 

Dash raised his middle finger as he stormed up the stairs. Their laughter followed him upstairs. Dash yanked open his bedroom door and slammed it behind him, locking it without thinking. 

“-cool, right, Pookie?” Fenton’s voice came from Dash’s right, where he was sitting in front of the lava lamp again. When he heard Dash enter, Fenton spun around and stared at him with wide eyes. His shoulders were raised up by his ears. Pookie sat in Fenton’s lap. 

Dash looked at them. His beloved dog and the person he wanted to see least. 

“What’s on your face? Did someone hit you again?” Fenton asked. 

Dash walked past him without answering. He face planted on his bed. 

Laughter and shouts drifted up from below. 

Dash groaned. 

“I dunno if that’s a good idea, Pookie. You know what they say about poking bears,” Fenton muttered. The computer chair creaked. 

Dash didn’t hear Fenton’s footsteps crossing to him but the next thing he knew, Pookie was on the bed. He turned his head and saw Fenton standing beside him. Pookie promptly got comfortable on the small of Dash’s back. 

“Did you mean to lock us in?” Fenton asked. 

“You can leave if you want, Fenton. But I’d stay scarce if I was you.” He didn’t know why he was bothering to warn Fenton. The longer they were up here alone together, the more everyone would jump to conclusions and gossip. Dash groaned again, hiding his head beneath his pillow. 

Fenton was quiet while he processed that. The bed suddenly dipped with more weight than Pookie had. “Are you hiding at your own party?” 

Dash grunted noncommittally. 

Pookie’s tail began to wag. 

Dash pulled his head from beneath the pillow to see Fenton petting Pookie, who was still curled up on the small of his back...which was very close to Dash’s butt. Fenton smiled at the dog. When he noticed Dash looking, his smile faded. He pulled his hand back into his lap. 

“You’re a freak, Fenton.” Dash couldn’t muster any anger. Now that he’s in his room, he just felt tired. 

“I like dogs,” Fenton snapped, on the defense. 

Dash couldn’t find anything to fault Fenton with there. Dogs were cool. And the fact that Pookie seemed to like Fenton made him go up a rating in Dash’s head. 

Fenton curled his hands into fists. “Look, Dash, I don’t get why you’ve got to wail on me _constantly_. I’m already in these stupid, uncomfortable clothes surrounded by people who hate me and apparently I shouldn’t leave. Why do you have to pile it on?” Fenton was angry but it was an earnest sort of anger. He put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I wanted to impress you,” he said so softly that Dash was sure he wasn’t meant to hear it. 

But Dash _did_ hear it. It was strange, because Fenton did almost nothing that indicated he wanted anything to do with the cool kids. He hung out with his loser friends and got in trouble with the school and liked to get under Dash’s skin. He visibly lusted after Paulina but so did everyone with a persuasion for girls. Sometimes Fenton tried to make a move on Paulina but for the most part, he didn’t even bother. So it was news to Dash that Fenton wanted to impress _him_. 

He shifted and Pookie took that as a sign to jump down onto the bed. The dog made his way to sit in Fenton’s lap. Dash grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. He held it out to Fenton. 

Fenton stared at him like he’d lost his mind. 

Maybe Dash had. “Look, you obviously don’t want to wear _that_. It’s the same kind of shirt you wear every day.” He knocked the visor off of Fenton’s head, causing his black hair to fall into his eyes. Dash added, “I took a shower before the party so it doesn’t stink.” 

Fenton took the shirt, still looking at Dash like he was trying to figure out if he was being possessed by a ghost. He didn’t even blink. He made no move to put it on. This went on for so long that Dash had time to blink several times and wonder if he’d somehow broken Fenton for good. Then, Fenton shifted Pookie to the bed. He rose to his feet, crossed the room to Dash’s dresser, as far away physically as he could get. Fenton shrugged out of the jacket, an easy shrug of his shoulders that made the white and blue material fall to the floor. He wore a black tank top underneath it. 

Fenton set the shirt down and grabbed his tank top by the hem, pulling it over his head. The general dimness of the room and the glow of the pink lava lamp almost, _almost_ hid the bruises and scabs that littered Fenton’s torso like a kaleidoscope. 

Dash sat up without thinking. He felt his eyes widening as he stared at the wounds. The bruises were dark, really dark beneath Fenton’s pale skin. The scabs were a deep, angry red and there were a lot of them. As Fenton shifted to put the shirt on, some shiny patches of scar tissue became visible. Dash could see every single rib sticking out as though Fenton were a starving dog. Then the shirt settled on Fenton’s slender shoulders and it was all covered up again. 

Dash deliberately looked away, bending down to pick up the visor he’d knocked to the floor so that Fenton wouldn’t know he’d been looking. He knew for a fact that he wasn’t responsible for those. Where did they come from? Was it...was it ghost hunting? Or was it his parents? 

Fenton didn’t seem to notice Dash had noticed. The shirt was the same style as Fenton’s normal one, but this one hung down to his knees. Fenton was a size small, Dash was an extra-large. Which Dash hadn’t been thinking of when he offered the shirt. If Fenton wasn’t wearing the pants, Dash’s shirt would practically be a dress on him. “Jeez, Dash, you’re huge.” 

Dash smirked, playing his role as the confident playboy. 

Fenton caught the look and rolled his eyes. “Not like that.” He gave Dash a contemplative look and added quietly, “Maybe like that.” 

A rollercoaster. Talking to Fenton was like being on a rollercoaster. Dash’s stomach swooped at Fenton’s second comment. He fidgeted, unsure of how to proceed from here. Fenton didn’t seem to be leaving and now he was wearing Dash’s shirt. _And the scars..._ But Fenton was acting like...like everything was totally normal. This was so weird. 

Fenton crossed the room to him, footsteps making no noise. Dash realized he was in his socks. The shoes were by the dresser with his tank top and jacket. “It feels good to get out of that jacket. I’m so hot.” Fenton sat on the very edge of the bed, as far away from Dash as he could get while still sitting on the bed. He clicked his tongue. 

Pookie jumped out of Dash’s lap and trotted over to Fenton. He sniffed Fenton’s hand and then licked him and allowed himself to be pet. 

Dash wasn’t hot. Now that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he was kind of cold. He gathered the blankets around him and shook his head. “How can you be hot, Fenton? You’ve got like no meat on your bones.” 

Fenton shot Dash a poisonous look. “You know, if I’m wearing your shirt, the least you could do is call me by name.” He cocked his head slightly. “Do you want your shirt back?” 

“Uh, no. It’s fine...Danny.” Dash said. He didn’t know why he was giving in like this. Something must be wrong with him to be this nice to Fen - Danny. 

Danny rewarded Dash with a sweet smile that made Dash’s stomach flutter like it was full of butterflies. “So, what _is_ that on your face? Did you get into another fight?” 

Dash snorted. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t gotten into any fights tonight.” He rubbed his cheek, ignoring the twinge of pain. His hand came away pink with Paulina’s lipstick. “I...Paulina was making fun of me. You. Us.” 

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Paulina kissed you?” 

“Why wouldn’t she kiss me?” Dash asked, irritated and boasting at the same time. He rolled his eyes. 

“And Paulina kissing you...was somehow making fun of...you and me?” Danny asked slowly, trying to figure out what he’d missed while hiding away in Dash’s room. Before Dash could reply, Danny continued, “Did they think the bruise on your jaw was a hickey?” His eyes widened and he grinned. “Oh my god, they _did_.” 

“Don’t _you_ start,” Dash warned, hands curling into fists. He leaned threateningly toward Danny. Though how much of a threat a boy in a blanket was, Dash wasn’t sure. 

Danny’s grin faded a second later. “Ugh,” he said, sounding disgusted and wrinkling his nose. 

The butterflies in Dash’s stomach withered and died and rotted, leaving his stomach roiling. He was going to punch Fenton if this kid thought that kissing him was that bad. And then he was probably going to cry later, after Fenton left, because it hurt more than Dash cared to admit. 

“They think I can’t kiss?” Danny continued, oblivious to Dash’s distress. He sounded offended. Those sky blue eyes glared at Dash. “And of course you didn’t tell them the truth, did you? That I punched you in the face? Of course you didn’t. Because you’re _you_ and you have your _pride_ ,” Danny spat out the last word like it tasted bitter in his mouth. He’d worked himself into such a frenzy that sweat rolled down his temple. “And screw you, Dash Baxter. These pants are hot and itchy and I’m taking them off.” With that, Danny shoved and kicked the pants off, flinging them from his foot halfway across the room. Then, he flopped back onto Dash’s mattress with a huff. 

Dash stared at Danny’s legs. They were as thin around as the rest of him and covered in an alarming number of scabs, bruises, and scars as his torso was. Dash took this in almost in his peripherals, because his main focus was on Danny’s thighs, where the hem of the shirt ended. All of that creamy pale skin, knowing how close Danny’s thighs were to, well, the rest of him. Dash’s mouth watered. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. 

“What am I even doing here?” Danny muttered. “This was a mistake. I should be with Sam and Tucker.” He threw one arm over his eyes. The hemline of the shirt rode up a little higher on the left side. 

“You should probably put your pants back on if you want to leave,” Dash said after swallowing several times to moisten his throat. 

Danny hummed noncommittally. 

“Everyone already thinks…” 

Danny pulled his arm from his eyes, let it rest above his head. “What does everyone already think, Dash?” he asked, voice deceptively cool and calm. The little shit knew the answer, he just wanted to humiliate Dash by making him say it out loud. 

Dash found it difficult not to rise to Danny’s bait. It was a problem with him, he knew, but sometimes even when you were aware of a problem, it wasn’t easy to fix. “They...they…” he licked his dry lips. “Think we’re...making out.” 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Because us making out is more feasible than me punching you in the face.” His expression turned sad. “Now if _I_ was the one with the bruise on my jaw, they’d _know_ it was because you hit me.” 

“Maybe I should punch you so that you can go downstairs without suspicion,” Dash suggested, only half joking. 

A frown tugged down the corners of Danny’s mouth. He looked at Dash like Dash was a major disappointment. “We’ve been up here so long, that if I go downstairs wearing your shirt with a bruise on my face, they’re going to jump to some pretty...bad conclusions.” 

Dash’s face paled as he understood what Danny was saying. His eyes flitted to Danny’s legs, all of the injuries. It didn’t matter if Dash hit Danny or not; if Danny went down without pants then everyone would accuse _Dash_ of putting those wounds there. They’d wonder what kind of sick, depraved beast Dash was to do something like that to someone he supposedly cared about. It made bile rise in the back of Dash’s throat. He would never, _never_ hurt his romantic partner. Or his sexaul ones. Or anyone that he cared about. Guiltily, he realized that with this thinking, Danny didn’t qualify as someone Dash cared about. His voice was low and firm when Dash said, “I would never.” 

The lack of conviction on Danny’s face made Dash sicker. Tonight was turning into a nightmare. He let himself fall over onto his pillow, curled with his back against the headboard. 

Pookie came over and licked his face, then settled against the curve of his body. 

The following silence was awkward. 

Danny scowled at Dash’s ceiling as though it had done something to personally offend him. He lay completely still, his thin body outlined by Dash’s t-shirt. His chest rose and fell only once every couple of minutes. 

Despite how strange that was, it wasn’t enough to pull Dash from his funk of self-loathing. Dash hated himself and he hated his anger and he hated this party and this day and this town and he hated Danny Fenton. He shivered, unusually cold, and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. Danny was laying on his sheet so Dash couldn’t use that. After this conversation, Dash didn’t want to ask Danny Fenton for anything ever again. 

Pookie, being an old man dog, didn’t notice the awkwardness between Dash and Danny. He lay his chin on his paws and closed his eyes, letting out soft snores a moment later. 

“If I thought I had a chance in hell, I’d ask you out right now.” 

Dash’s whole body stiffened with shock. _“What?”_ Fenton was into him? Why? How? Did he secretly get off on being bullied? Was Dash fueling some sort of fetish? If it was true, he owed Dale twenty bucks. 

Danny snorted. “Not like that. I just...if it meant having one less person wailing on me, then I’d date you.” He sounded wistful. He sounded so disgustingly, blatantly hopeful that it was painful to hear. 

“And what would I get out of it?” Dash asked, tone snarkier than he meant it to be. Aesthetically, Danny was pretty. Or he would be if he wasn’t skin and bones and injuries maring his complexion. He had soft hair and beautiful eyes and he always smelled of something vaguely fruity like pomegranates. Danny was smart, his whole family were geniuses, but Danny’s grades didn’t reflect it anymore. He’d taken a steep nosedive this year. Still, his tongue was sharp and barbed and Danny knew just how to slide beneath Dash’s skin with his comments. And his actions. He pissed Dash off, was rude or condescending like he didn’t think Dash was worth his time. The only extracurricular Danny did was ghost hunting, which he didn’t even seem to like. 

Dash just didn’t see any reason or benefit for them to get together as friends or romantic partners. 

Danny’s hands moved to the hemline of the shirt. He fiddled with it, bunching it in his fists and then smoothing it out again. The action was incredibly distracting. “What do you want?” Danny asked finally. 

That was a lot of power to hand over to Dash. Dash swallowed. He gazed at the hemline of the shirt, trying and failing to keep his imagination in check. “What if all I wanna do is pound you?” 

Danny went rigid. “What exactly does _that_ mean?” He asked it in a falsely neutral tone of voice. 

Dash vowed to never say the word _pound_ again. He wasn’t even going to _think_ it anymore. It was erased from his vocabulary. “What do you think it means, Fen...Danny?” He was going for snark but knew he missed the mark. 

Danny rolled onto his side, he drew one knee higher than the other and his black boxers showed. “Well, it could mean that you still want to hurt me and yell at me and make my life miserable, in which case I’ve severely misjudged how you treat your partners. Or it could mean that you want to have sex.” 

Dash waited for the _‘in which case’_ but Danny didn’t say anymore. Dash genuinely wondered how he’d gotten in this situation. Was chasing after Jazz Fenton really worth everything that had happened tonight? Here he was, half naked in his room, talking to her little brother about dating and having sex. 

“What do you want, Dash?” 

A time machine so that he could go back and stop himself from inviting Jazz to this party at all. She hadn’t even shown up. Dash couldn’t meet Danny’s eyes as he said, “I don’t do casual dating. Or casual sex.” 

Danny cocked his head, curiosity piqued. “That’s surprising. I thought you would be a slut.” 

Dash curled his hands into fists. 

Before Dash could say anything - or hit him - Danny said, “I’m sorry. I was stereotyping you. That was rude.” He picked at fuzz on the sheets. 

A weighted silence fell between them. 

Danny yawned and rubbed his eyes. It reminded Dash that this mess was started because Danny threw punches when he was woken up. He wondered if Danny got enough sleep. Not that he cared. 

_Why don’t you care, Dash?_ He asked himself. _Because he’s annoying? Well, look what he’s got to deal with._

“I don’t know,” Dash and Danny said in unison. Their eyes met. “What?” They said again in unison. 

Danny wrinkled nose. 

Dash groaned. 

“I don’t have anything to offer,” Danny said after it became apparent that Dash wasn’t going to speak. “I’m just…me. And you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t like just me.” 

Dash didn’t know how someone could talk about this like it was fact. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably. “I don’t know what I want from you. Maybe for you to be less annoying.” 

Danny’s eyes narrowed. He very visibly held back whatever he wanted to say. Did he really think that Dash would date him? Was he willing to go _that_ far for some peace? 

The following silence hung even thicker in the air, so awkward that Dash seriously considered going back downstairs. Dash wondered why he’d willingly chosen to come back to his room for awkward conversation - that was even more awkward than he’d thought it would be - instead of just let his friends poke fun at him at his expense. 

Danny shifted his legs again, rubbing them together. The shirt shifted too, bunched more around his waist so that his black boxer-briefs were entirely visible. In the darkness of the room, the underwear felt like a taunting void; a tease. 

If it didn’t happen so often, Dash wouldn’t believe the way his brain could flip from feeling immensely awkward to immensely awkward and aroused. His face warmed with a blush and he forced himself to stop staring at Danny. His eyes found the pink lava lamp across the room. He got the feeling that he would never be able to look at the lava lamp again without thinking of Danny Fenton. 

The party was still raging below them, sound too muffled to make out details. But it sounded like everyone was having a good time. Kwan would take over Dash’s duties as host because he was a good bro and everyone would be gone by one am because it was a school night and they would need to clean up later. 

“So,” Danny said, breaking the silence between them. “If I’m following this right, you want it to be serious. Like dates and gifts and the whole nine yards?” 

Dash wanted romance. He wanted passion. He wanted to be swept off his feet and spoiled and he wanted to be able to do the same to his partner. He wanted to be in love. These weren’t things that Dash could tell Danny. Guys weren’t supposed to want that stuff. Danny calling Dash a slut was proof enough that even a twink like him thought romance wasn’t for a man’s man like Dash. “Yeah,” Dash agreed because Danny had him pinned. “Something like that.” He tried to keep his tone casual. 

Danny sat up, facing Dash and crossing his legs. He sat with his back straight, hands in his lap, gazing down at Dash. The neckline of Dash’s shirt was cockeyed, showing off one scarred, narrow shoulder. The lava lamp made his black hair shine with pink highlights. His blue eyes looked almost violet. With the light behind him, Danny’s face looked more skull-like. All in all Danny looked...inhuman and beautiful and entirely untouchable, like he somehow existed outside of Dash’s reality. 

Curled up in his blanket, Dash suddenly felt _less_. He sat up, let the blanket fall from his shoulders despite how cold his room was. _Why_ was his room so cold? Sitting up, Dash had to look down at Danny. It felt right, or at least closer to normal on a night where everything was turned on its head. 

Danny’s eyes were calculating as he gazed into Dash’s eyes. He said, “Dash?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You want romance and I want to be treated like a person.” This was stated dispassionately, as cold hard fact. 

Dash flinched. His chest tightened. He had a moment of panic, brain screaming _oh my god what the fuck have I done?_ Dash forced it down. Now was not the time to freak out. Even though a cold sweat broke out on his back. He nodded. 

Danny waited. 

“Sounds about right,” Dash heard himself mutter. He was panicking, wondering how he’d been corralled into a relationship with Fenton and why it already felt like a done deal. Dash could say no. He could kick Fenton out, regardless of what everyone else would think. But his reputation. Fenton has been in his room too long, they’ve been alone too long, and even without the injuries spreading across Fenton’s skin like continents, Dash would be seen as exactly the type of guy he didn’t want to be. The playboy who used and dumped people without a second thought. 

The cold, untouchable, ethereal Fenton disappeared, melted into the shy, very human dork. “Will…” Fenton took a deep breath. In the back of his mind, Dash thought that it was the first one Fenton took all night. “Will you be my...b-boyfriend,” Fenton tripped over the word _boyfriend,_ “Dash?” 

Dash was going to say no. He was going to laugh and say that he wasn’t queer and they would only happen in Fenton’s wet dreams. He looked into Danny’s eyes and saw guarded hope there. He didn’t _expect_ Dash to say yes, even for something that - maybe, probably - benefited both of them. Dash tried to remember if they’ve ever had a conversation that didn’t end in violence. He couldn’t. He’s swept Danny off his feet before but it was never romantic. What would _that_ be like? Dash opened his mouth, maybe to list off all the reasons it wouldn’t work, maybe to just reject Fenton. What came out of his mouth instead was, “yes.” 

Danny’s eyes got comically huge. He tried, and failed, to school his features into something less surprised. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, said nothing, then licked his lips. Danny’s hands curled in the fabric of his t-shirt, nervously kneading it. 

Dash thought that maybe Fenton had been messing with him this whole time. That it was some very elaborate prank and Dash had walked right into it. Fenton was like that. He was clever, even though he played dumb a lot. He felt himself get angry, skin warming as humiliation began to bloom within him. 

With the same speed that Fenton had used to punch Dash hours earlier - oh god, it had only been a few hours, hadn’t it? - Fenton now leaned toward Dash. He went up on his knees, put both hands on Dash’s thigh to support himself, and pressed his lips to Dash’s cheek. His lips were cold, like he’d been eating icecream, and soft. Danny lingered there for a moment, lips pressed to Dash’s cheek, a soft, cool exhale through his nose ghosting across Dash’s skin, then rocked back into his sitting cross-legged position. 

Dash couldn’t even hide his surprise. He touched his cheek where Danny’d kissed him. 

“OhmygodIcan’tbelieveIdidthat,” Danny whispered under his breath. He talked fast when he was anxious. He kneaded the shirt again, eyes darting to and away from Dash’s face. His tongue came out, a little flicker of pink swiping across his lips. 

Dash was stunned. He never in a million years thought that Danny Fenton would ever kiss him. Or. His cheek. Whatever. He didn’t expect to ever have Danny’s lips pressed against any part of his anatomy willingly or unwillingly. Dash stared at Danny. “Your lips are cold,” he blurted out because he felt like he should say something. 

Most people would probably be offended somehow, and Dash expected the same from Danny, but instead he let out a relieved sigh. He flashed Dash a little half smile. “Uh, yeah, I can’t really help it. My body temperature naturally runs really low.” His smile grew. “The good news is that I make a great ice pack so if you’re ever, uh, too hot then...I’m great at hugs?” 

Dash wondered briefly if Danny was possessed by a ghost. It was typically considered rude to ask those things though. And Dash had just made a promise to be nicer, sort of, and sealed it with a kiss, sort of. 

“And I _can_ kiss. I’ve done it before,” Danny added, defensive, picking up like nothing life changing happened. 

“Manson?” Dash asked, kind of curious. As far as he knew, Danny didn’t _have_ a love life. He never seemed like the type to date, well, anyone. _Untouchable._

Danny made a face and laughed. “What? No. Sam doesn’t even like boys.” 

That made an odd sort of sense to Dash. “Foley?” Dash guessed because Danny didn’t have any other friends. Even the other nerds stayed away from him. 

Another face, another smile. “Nah. Tucker only likes girls too.” 

Dash gave him a blank look and made a gesture to mean he was out of guesses. 

Danny squirmed. “If I told you who it was, you wouldn’t believe me. He’s...my parents age. So, like, in his forties.” 

Oh. Dash bit back every single comment that came to mind, both the mean ones and the insensitive ones and the concerned ones. He studied Danny’s expression but couldn’t decide how Danny felt about the experience. 

A knock at the door caused both of them to jump and saved them from continuing the conversation. Dash and Danny shot each other guilty looks. 

Pookie lifted his head and let out a high pitched bark. 

From the other side of the door came Kwan’s voice. “Dash!” He whined. “Everyone is gone and I am not cleaning your house by myself. Stop making out with Fenton and get out here!” 

Now that Kwan mentioned it, Dash noticed the absence of music and voices for the first time. It had all faded to background noise. He glanced at the digital clock on his desk. It read 1:05 am. “We are not making out!” Dash yelled back. He moved Pookie and climbed off the bed, going to the door to unlock it. 

Kwan opened it so fast he almost smacked Dash in the face and would have if Dash hadn’t caught the door first. “Oh thank god. I thought he killed you. Where’s Fenton?” Without waiting for an answer, Kwan peered over Dash’s shoulder. His eyes got huge. 

Dash twisted his head to look. 

Danny was getting out of the rumpled bed, obviously wearing Dash’s shirt and what looked like nothing else. 

“Oh my god,” Kwan said. “I was just joking. Oh my god.” 

Dash shifted to block Kwan’s view. “If you could _not_ ogle at my boyfriend.” He was relieved that his voice didn’t break or give him away. He sounded downright casual. 

Kwan met Dash’s eye and made a face along with some hand gestures. _What the heck? Are you serious?_

Dash nodded and shrugged. _Yup._

Kwan made more elaborate hand gestures and let his eyes flick up and down Dash’s bare torso. Because Danny was wearing his shirt and Dash hadn’t put another one on. _How far did you go?_

Dash made a decisive gesture that meant _we didn’t._

Behind him, he heard the sounds of Danny getting dressed. 

The hurt look on Kwan’s face asked, _why didn’t you tell me? We’re best bro’s._

Dash put a hand on Kwan’s shoulder and squeezed. He would talk about this when Danny wasn’t there and in the meantime, they were still best friends. 

Danny ducked beneath Dash’s arm, fully dressed and looking uncomfortable again. His cheeks were flushed. “I’ll help you…” his eyes widened suddenly. “What time is it?!” He yelped. 

“A little after one,” Kwan said helpfully. 

“Ohmygodmypaerentsaregoingtokillme,” Danny said. He took a step forward, paused, turned on his heel and threw his arms around Dash’s neck. Before Dash could react, Danny’s mouth was on his, cold and soft, in a hard kiss. “I’ll see you at school,” Danny said against Dash’s lips. Then Danny dropped back down to his feet and pivoted again. Danny ran down the stairs so quickly it was like he wasn’t even touching them. He was out the front door in seconds, slamming it shut behind him. 

Kwan and Dash watched him go, astounded looks on both of their faces. “You know what’s weird?” Kwan said finally. 

“My life?” Dash guessed. Danny kissed him. On the _mouth_. With his _lips_. He touched his fingertips to his lips. They were cold. 

“Well, yeah. But I was talking about how his footsteps didn’t make any noise,” Kwan said. “I mean, he ran down those stairs pretty fast.” 

That was weird. The whole evening had been so weird that how loud Danny’s footsteps were didn’t even register. “Kwan,” Dash said, reaching for his friend’s shoulder. “I need you to be honest with me.” 

“I always am,” Kwan said earnestly. He put his hand over Dash’s hand. 

“Did I fall and hit my head? Am I lying on the floor unconscious right now?” Dash couldn’t stop repeating the moment that Danny Fenton kissed him. He was kind of glad that Kwan was there to witness it because Dash needed someone to verify that it really happened. 

Kwan chuckled. “Dash, bro, that just happened in real life. You aren’t having a coma fantasy about Fenton.” His smile was warm and playful. “Danny’s pretty cool, you know? But just let me know if I’ve got to beat him up.” There was a hint of seriousness in Kwan’s voice. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Dash. 

Dash looked at his friend. “You think Fenton is cool?” 

Kwan shrugged and started down the stairs. His footsteps made a soft _thump_ on every step. “Sure. I like him and his friends.” 

Dash followed Kwan down, feeling conflicted and lost. He admitted this to Kwan, though not in so many words, as they got garbage bags and began cleaning up the mess from the party. Usually, Dash would be able to reflect how all the trash got there, attach some funny story to it, but he’d bailed for pretty much the entire second half of the party. “Kwan, there’s something wrong with me.” Then he launched into an explanation of exactly what happened. 

Danny was right that Dash wouldn’t tell most of the people at the party about being punched by him, but he was wrong about Dash keeping it completely to himself. Kwan and Dash have been friends since kindergarten and Dash trusted him more than anyone. The only thing that Dash didn’t tell Kwan was of the injuries scattered all over Danny’s skin. 

By the end of his story, Kwan was obviously struggling to hold in laughter. He kept covering his giggles with coughing. “Dash, it’s cool if you like Danny.” 

“I just told you that there’s nothing to like,” Dash said flatly. 

“You just told me that you like how he looks backlit by your lava lamp and that you would rather hang out with him than us.” Kwan held up a finger to stop any protests. He held up a second finger, then a third. “And that you like his thighs, and you’re impressed with his reflexes, and Pookie likes him.” Kwan was now holding up all of the fingers of his left hand. 

“Kwan, I’m not even queer,” Dash said, tone indicating that this should be obvious. He gathered up an armful of solo cups, took them to the kitchen, and dumped the contents into the sink. 

Kwan raised an eyebrow before ducking beneath the table to retrieve a ping pong ball. “You’re queer for Phantom.” 

Dash scoffed. “Dude that’s different and you know it. Everyone is queer for Phantom.” Which was basically true to some degree or another. Dash definitely had a lot of fantasies involving Phantom. Dash threw away the empty cups and picked through what was left of the food, stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten after school in anticipation of grazing the buffet. 

Kwan put the leftover soda in the fridge. “So are you going to keep your promise? You done wailing on Danny?” Kwan had to be pushed to do anything mean to anyone and was mostly exempt from bullying other people. He was usually the Voice Of Reason, the one who said when enough was enough. 

Dash honestly didn’t know. It was a habit by this point. Could he really just... _stop_? 

After a moment of silence, Kwan said, “As your best friend, you can always come crying to me, Dash. But don’t come crying about it when Danny dumps you because you’re being a jerk.” 

The possibility hasn’t occurred to Dash before. Dash Baxter, dumped by a loser? He would be the laughing stock of the school. No one would want to date him. No one would want to be friends with him if Dash was rejected by a loser. Just the thought made Dash’s pride rankle. If they were going to break up, it was going to be because Dash dumped Fenton. For the first time, Dash realized this was an option. Just like he didn’t have to say yes when Danny asked to be boyfriends, Dash didn’t have to _stay_ in the relationship. They could break up whenever. 

Some of the weight lifted from Dash’s shoulders. He still had an out. 

Dash and Kwan finished collecting the trash and hauling it to the dumpster in the alley behind Dash’s house. Kwan washed the dishes while Dash vacuumed and mopped the floors. While this was a parental approved party, it was on the condition that Dash’s mom came back to a clean house. She got off work at eight in the morning, giving the boys plenty of time to make sure the house was in order. They finished at 2:30. 

“Imma steal your shower,” Kwan said with a yawn. He retrieved his duffle bag from where he’d stashed it in Dash’s closet hours earlier and shuffled into the bathroom across the hall. 

Dash wheeled his computer chair back to the desk...or he tried to. The wheels got caught on something. Dash let out a tired, annoyed groan as he stooped to untangle the fabric from the wheels. It was a black tank top. Dash picked it up and gave it a sniff, the scent of pomegranates only confirming that it belonged to Danny. He clutched it in his fist as he put his chair back by the desk. He sat on the edge of his bed, petting Pookie with one hand and holding the shirt with his other. “I think I’m screwed, Pookie,” Dash whispered. 

Pookie licked his hand. 

When he heard the shower turn off, Dash hurried to get changed into his pajamas. They were simple pants and a comfortable t-shirt. He moved Pookie to the dog bed on the floor because with Kwan sharing his bed, the risk of accidentally crushing the tiny dog was too great. 

Dash hid the shirt beneath his pillow. He got comfortable in bed, laying on his side facing the wall. The spot Danny had been sitting was still chilled. Dash shivered and clutched the shirt tighter. He had a boyfriend. 

Kwan entered a few minutes later. He brought with him the scent of clean skin and Dash’s shampoo. He climbed into bed beside Dash, laid down with his back pressed to Dash’s back. Kwan yawned. 

Dash drew the tank top to his chest. It was cool, but not cold, and quickly warming to his body temperature. In the dark, it felt safe to quietly admit, “He's good at kissing.” Because Dash was still remembering the feeling of Danny’s lips against his. 

Kwan hummed. “Wonder who he's been kissing.” 

“Dunno,” Dash admitted. “He wouldn’t tell me.” He had the brief thought of beating it out of Danny but dismissed it immediately. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“That I’m not the first guy he’s kissed or that we kissed at all?” 

“Either. Both.” Kwan said. He was a comforting presence against Dash’s back, warm and so alive. His back expanded and withdrew with every breath. 

“I don’t know. It was nice.” The memory of that kiss in the hallway, how Danny’s lips felt against his, the way he had to rock up and press flush against Dash just to kiss him, made Dash’s cock chub up. He was half hard because of Danny Fenton. Because Danny kissed him _one_ time and it was the best kiss that Dash has ever had. “He’s really cold.” 

Kwan snorted. “Have you seen him? He’s skin and bones. Of course he’s cold.” 

Dash grunted agreement. Privately, he was remembering how Danny had complained about being hot. He wondered what that was about. He wondered if Danny orchestrated this whole thing as a prank, just to mess with Dash. “Kwan?” 

Kwan hummed. He sounded half asleep. 

“Do you think he’s messing with me?” Dash asked, hating how small his voice was. 

Kwan sighed. “It’s possible. You haven’t been very nice to him, Dash.” 

Instead of anger, Dash was met with despair at the prospect. “I haven’t been that bad.” 

“Bro, you know I love you. But you’re a huge dick to him. Remember when Manson changed the menu and you bounced Danny’s head off the cafeteria table?” 

Dash winced with the memory. “I didn’t mean to.” He really didn’t. He just wanted Fenton away from him. 

“Well, you fooled everyone watching,” Kwan said bluntly. “It’s not even just a one off, Dash. You do stuff like that to him all the time.” Kwan yawned again. He didn’t say anything else and eventually his breathing evened out. 

Dash stayed awake longer, even as exhausted as he was, even though he had school in a few hours. He stared at the wall and replayed the past few years in his head. Was he really as bad as Kwan said? The nausea in his gut and the tightness in his chest told him that he was. The fact that he could easily call up the many memories of punching Fenton said yes. Dash rubbed the tank top over his knuckles, trying to erase the ghost sensation. He was conflicted, about what Kwan said, about dating Fenton. 

He didn’t want to think about this. He was too tired and his thoughts were spinning in circles. Dash squeezed his eyes closed. All of his teddy bears were hidden in the closet because of the party, so Dash bunched up the little tank top and pressed it to his chest as a placebo. He did, eventually, fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I write more of this? Is anyone interested in seeing what happens next?
> 
> Also, come join my DP discord server and talk about Danny Phantom with me. https://discord.gg/jWwJAbqXHC


	2. In Which Dash's Day Is Very Long And Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Tuesday, Dash has a boyfriend, and he's still in shock about the whole thing. Plus people are being really mean to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm only just now realizing exactly how badly I messed up the timeline. Move over, BH, I'm fucking this bitch up more than you ever could.

Twenty minutes after the bell rang on Tuesday morning, Dash walked into his homeroom, US Government. He carried an iced coffee in one hand, in desperate need of the caffeine. Dash _could_ function on less than four hours of sleep, but didn’t _like_ doing it. 

Mr. Lancer glanced at Dash but said nothing about his tardiness, choosing instead to act like Dash wasn’t interrupting. 

Dash made to go to his seat and froze. 

Fenton was in the back row, sitting next to the only empty seat, the corner seat; which happened to be Dash’s seat. He sat with his head in one hand, pencil in the other. His eyes were downcast and every so often his pencil twitched like he was writing down notes. Fenton didn’t react at all to Dash’s presence. 

Dash took his seat. He glanced at Danny and saw that he wasn’t just engrossed in note taking; he was dead asleep. Dash smiled to himself. At least he wasn’t the only one exhausted. 

Really, the mood in the classroom was a general exhaustion. Only the kids who didn’t show up at the party were wide awake. 

“Mr. Fenton!” Mr. Lancer shouted. He’d watched Dash walk back to his seat. 

Danny woke up with a start. He looked around, blue eyes wide. His gaze settled on Mr. Lancer. “Y-yes, sir?” 

Mr. Lancer gave Danny a deadpanned look. “Since you’re so engrossed in the lesson, please repeat what I just said.” 

“Uh,” Danny said. Sweat rolled down his face. He hastily wiped it away. “You said _‘Mr. Fenton’_.” 

Dash snorted. 

Danny seemed to see him for the first time. His face turned bright red and he ducked his head. 

“Hilarious, Mr. Fenton. Perhaps you should consider becoming a comedian if you graduate,” Mr. Lancer said. “Do pay attention.” He went back to his lesson. 

Danny sagged in his seat, this time visibly not paying attention. He peeked at Dash from the corner of his eye. Then he ripped a piece of paper from his notebook and scrawled something at the top. He folded it and delicately placed it on the corner of Dash’s desk. 

Dash raised an eyebrow. He reached for the note and opened it. 

**Movie tonight?** The note read. 

**I’m going to your house for tutoring tonight. Tomorrow?** Dash wrote back. He flicked the note back. 

Danny caught it midair. He glanced at Mr. Lancer then opened it. Danny cocked his head, considered and then met Dash’s eye and nodded. He wrote, folded the note, and handed it back. **What kind of movies do you like?**

A trickle of panic washed through Dash like a mist. He couldn’t tell Danny the truth, that he loved romances. Manly men weren’t supposed to like romance or romance movies. He eyed Danny from the corner of his eye. Dash didn’t want to give Danny anything to use against him. **There’s that new ghost movie.**

Danny made a face of disgust when he read the note. **You like ghosts?** His handwriting was hard, like he was putting a lot of pressure on his pencil. 

What the heck? Did Fenton have some hang up with ghosts? **Only one.** Dash flicked the note back before he could erase what he’d written. 

When Danny read this, his eyes went wide and his cheeks colored with a blush. **The Box Ghost, right? ;)**

Dash rolled his eyes. He wrote **Phantom.** Then drew a picture, just to remind Danny and because he liked Phantom. Did Danny even know about Phantom? Dash was pretty sure that Danny always disappears before Phantom shows up. 

Danny’s lips twitched when he read the note. **Should I be jealous?**

Dash’s heart skipped a beat at the reminder. They were boyfriends. He and Danny Fenton were boyfriends. It was still mind blowing. Dash still couldn’t decide if that was in a good way or a bad way. Wait, was Danny going to try to kiss him at school? **Maybe,** Dash wrote honestly. 

Danny’s eyes read over Dash’s reply twice. He chewed on the end of his pencil and gazed out the window, face angled away from Dash. This clearly gave him a lot to think about. **My parents are obsessed with ghosts. I don’t want to waste my time watching inaccurate movies about them. Please pick literally anything else.**

Dash sipped his coffee. He’d grown worried the longer that Danny wrote, but he didn’t say anything about Dash’s crush on Phantom. He contemplated his next move, carefully considering. Maybe he could test Danny, feel out the waters. **There’s a romcom playing.**

When Danny read the note, he gave an audible sigh of relief. He flashed a tired smile at Dash. 

“Mr. Fenton, is there something you would like to share with the class?” Mr. Lancer asked, voice steely. He was glaring at Danny. “Why don’t you read the note out loud to the class since it’s so interesting?” It was not a suggestion. 

Dash’s face paled. The longer he could keep their relationship under wraps, the better. He watched Danny from the corner of his eye, wondering what Danny was going to do. 

Danny’s hand flickered. One second the paper was there, the next it was gone. He offered Mr. Lancer an innocent smile. “What note, Mr. Lancer?” 

Dash’s eyes widened. That was a clever bit of hand work. Was Danny secretly a stage magician or something? Just when he thought that Danny couldn’t get any geekier. 

“Detention, Mr. Fenton,” Mr. Lancer said and returned to teaching. 

Danny put his head in his arms for the rest of class. He didn’t reproduce the note and he didn’t even look at Dash again. 

As for Dash, he tried to pay attention, but he was too distracted. His eyes kept sliding to Danny’s still form. This was the boy he was dating. They were in a relationship. They’d had a friendly back and forth note writing. Danny got detention just so that he could talk to Dash. Dash felt oddly happy about this, not particularly because Danny was in trouble but because he’d taken the risk. 

First period passed quickly. Dash finished his latte. When the bell rang, Danny pushed himself from his seat. He leaned forward and placed something in Dash’s pocket. Then he disappeared into the crowd of teenagers. 

Danny and Dash didn’t share second period. Dash reached into his pocket and felt the folded note tucked safely inside. His heart beat a little faster. He made his way to second period, actually arriving on time, and plopping down in his customary seat at the back of the room. 

Kwan joined him a minute later. “How’d it go?” Kwan whispered. 

Dash sighed. He shrugged and pulled the note from his pocket. There was a heart drawn at the bottom. Dash stared at it for a long time, conflicted. 

On one hand, Dash was elated. That had been such a good conversation. They were, like, almost flirting right? The previous points of Fenton risking trouble and the little heart at the bottom of the page. And Fenton asking him on a date. 

But...as exciting as all of that was, it was tempered by how Danny was only doing this so that one less person was hurting him. It was all artificial, faked. There was no emotion behind it, no actual romantic sentiment. 

“What’s that?” Kwan asked, peering over Dash’s shoulder. 

Dash handed it over without a word. He was elated by the developments and weighted down by the reality at the same time. 

Kwan read the note before folding it up and handing it back to Dash. “You have a date,” he sang under his breath. His eyes sparkled. 

Dash smiled despite his misgivings. His face warmed a little, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. “He got detention because of me.” 

Kwan raised an eyebrow. 

“He got caught passing the note,” Dash explained, suddenly feeling like Danny’s detention was another failure on his part. It’s not like he _meant_ for Danny to get in trouble. Dash didn’t even start the note passing. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this. 

“I don’t think he would make fun of you for watching romance movies anymore than I did,” Kwan said. 

The bell rang before Dash could reply. The rest of the class had filed in and were sitting, talking quietly among themselves but they went silent when the bell rang. 

Dash couldn’t focus on the class. It flew by without him absorbing anything. His mind was solidly on Danny Fenton and their upcoming movie date. He spaced out completely, imagining what dating Danny was going to be like. Truly, Dash had no clue but his expectations weren’t very high. Simply because he and Danny didn’t get along and they had nothing in common. 

The next class that Danny and Dash had together, Dash found himself sitting in the seat to Danny’s immediate right again. Danny flashed him a brief smile and then he did the same writing trick from first period and slept through the rest of class. 

They went through another class like that, with Danny only waking up long enough to shuffle to the next classroom before falling asleep again. Danny being asleep gave Dash a chance to reread their note. His heart leapt whenever he read it. 

Halfway through class, Valerie passed Dash a note and they talked back and forth for the rest of the period. Dash deliberately didn’t tell Valerie that he and Fenton were dating. It was actually pretty easy to keep the conversation away from Fenton. 

Which was good and bad because Dash’s mind wandered. 

The prospect of what they were going to do at lunch made Dash just a tiny bit nervous. He wasn’t sure if Danny would want to sit with Dash at the popular kids table or if he’d want Dash to sit with him at the losers table. Despite Kwan’s acceptance of the losers, Dash just couldn’t imagine their friend groups mingling. 

By the end of the class, Dash still wasn’t sure what to do. He left before Danny could even lift his head from his hand. Dash was not running. He _wasn’t_. 

Dash just wanted to see Kwan. That was all. He hurried through the halls and found Kwan by their lockers. He held out his fist for a fistbump. 

Kwan smiled, knocking his knuckles against Dash’s knuckles. “I’m starving, man, and it’s pizza day.” 

“Heck yeah,” Dash said, smiling back. He hoped his smile hid his nerves. 

Dash entered the cafeteria with Kwan at his side. They got in line for lunch, grabbing trays. “If you want to sit with him, I’ll go with you,” Kwan said as the lunch lady put a slice of pizza on his tray. 

Dash grunted noncommittally. He still hadn’t solved the dilemma of what he was going to do for lunch. Part of him hoped that Danny would somehow solve his problem one way or another so that Dash wouldn’t have to make a decisive move. Once he got his pizza, Dash turned around to find a seat. He almost ran into Kwan. 

Kwan stood stock still, staring across the cafeteria at Danny and his friends. “Bro,” he whispered, tone urgent. 

Beside him stood Dale, another one from the football team and Dash’s regular study buddy. He let out a low whistle as he too stared across at Danny. “Dang, Dash, you do that?” 

Dash moved up beside Kwan to see whatever the heck they were talking about. 

Danny was sitting facing them, animatedly talking to his loser friends. That wasn’t so unusual. What _was_ unusual was the huge bruise spread from Danny’s cheek to his jaw. It was deep purple, darkening near the center and even from a distance, Dash could tell that his cheek had been cut in the center of the bruise. 

For a few seconds, Dash felt panic coursing through his veins. For a few seconds, he wondered if he’d somehow blacked out and done that to Danny himself. As far as he knew, Dash never hit anyone that hard. Not hard enough to leave an injury like that. Danny’s voice from last night trickled back to him, words floating in his mind like ghosts; _“if I go downstairs wearing your shirt with a bruise on my face, they’re going to jump to some pretty...bad conclusions.”_

The reason that Dash hadn’t seen it was because it was on the left side of Danny’s face and Dash had been sitting on his right during every class they had together. Now Dash wondered if that had been intentional on Danny’s part. 

Kwan answered before Dash could, “No way, Dale. Danny didn’t have a mark on him when he left last night.” 

Except for all the ones that Kwan didn’t know about. 

Dash nodded agreement. “That was someone else,” he croaked. He caught Kwan’s eye and flicked his gaze back to Danny. If Dale was blaming Dash for that, then he wouldn’t be the only one. Dash wanted to know where the heck Danny got that nasty bruise and who Dash had to beat up. 

Kwan gave a slight nod of agreement. 

Dale shrugged, but his expression said that he didn’t believe Dash. “Whatever. That’s some top notch work, though.” He walked away, going past the tables to make his way to the one the popular kids occupied. Star and Paulina were already there. 

Dash and Kwan crossed to the losers table. Manson and Foley sat with their backs to the A-listers. 

“Do it, Danny, steal a cop car and drive it directly into the harbor!” Manson said, palms flat on the table and an excited lilt to her voice. 

Beside her, Foley was nodding encouragement. “You have a fifteen minute window at nine tonight. That’s plenty of time to stick it to those pigs.” 

“No, Sam, I am not going to steal -” Danny looked up, saw Dash, and abruptly switched topics, “HI DASH!” 

Manson and Foley twisted around to see Dash standing behind them. They exchanged looks. Manson glared up at Dash, a look full of pure loathing. “What do _you_ want, Dash?” 

Dash ignored her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Danny’s face. Now that they were closer, he could see the shine of liquid stitches applied over the cut. “What happened to your face? I thought you went right home after you left my place.” 

Panic briefly flashed across Danny’s face before his expression relaxed into an easy smile. His sky blue eyes were cold as winter and calculating. “Oh, I did. I was just...uh...hit in the face with a blender.” Danny’s cheeks turned pinked...well, his one cheek turned pink. The other one was so bruised that it stayed purple. 

Kwan’s expression turned pitying and slightly disbelieving. “Dude, Danny, when you said your parents were going to kill you for being late, I didn’t think you meant literally. Dash could've given you a ride home or something.” He sat down beside Tucker, putting his tray on the table. 

Danny’s eyes got wide. Well, one of them got wide. His left one was a little swollen. “No! My parents didn’t do this!” There was an edge of panic in his voice. 

Dash took the seat opposite of Kwan, sitting beside Danny. He kept some space between them, made sure that they weren’t touching at all. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted the rest of the school to know that Dash Baxter, star quarterback, was dating the loser Fenton. “Then who did?” he asked, voice flat with anger. He was on Danny’s left so he got a good view of the bruise. It made his stomach churn. 

“The blender was haunted,” Foley answered before Danny could say anything else. He ate his pizza, apparently unconcerned with the presence of the A-listers. 

Danny nodded in agreement. 

Manson took turns glaring at all of them and glaring at the pizza on her tray. It had pepperoni on it and she was notoriously a vegetarian. “What? Are you jealous that the blender got to Danny before you could?” Her words dripped venom. Suddenly, she winced and said, “Ow! Danny, what the heck?” 

“Sam, please be nice to my boyfriend,” Danny said, tone mild but firm. He picked up his pizza and took a bite. When he opened his mouth, the cut on his cheek stretched too. 

“Boyfriend!?” Manson and Foley said in shocked unison. 

“Yes. So play nice,” Danny said, a warning in his voice. He deliberately took another bite of his pizza. 

“Are you blackmailing him?” Manson demanded of Dash. 

“Are you possessed by Poindexter again, man?” Foley asked Danny. 

“No,” Dash and Danny said in unison. They glanced at each other. 

“I asked him out.” Danny slid his foot over so that their ankles were touching. He kept eating, face giving away absolutely nothing. 

Even though they were both wearing jeans, Dash noticed a chill coming from Danny. But all Dash could think about was the other A-Listers at the popular table seeing them practically playing footsie beneath the table. His face warmed with embarrassment. Kwan was cool - he was cool about pretty much everything - but what about the others? 

“If you’re trying to sleep your way to the top of the social ladder, there are higher ladders you can choose,” Manson deadpanned. 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Sam, if I wanted to sleep my way to the top of the social ladder, I’d let Fruitloop make me his pet.” Danny’s leg was bouncing now, a _shiff shiff_ against Dash’s leg. Danny opened his mouth wider on the next bite of pizza and Dash caught a glimpse of sharp, pointed canines. 

“Uh, Fruitloop?” Kwan asked. His confusion was evident in his voice. As he ate his pizza, Kwan shared a look with Dash. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the trio said in unison, voices dismissive. They were a unit, a three-headed dog like that of myth, acting without needing to consult each other. 

Manson looked between Danny and Dash, violet eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. “You can do better than this, Danny.” 

“Who?” Danny challenged. “Name one person.” 

Manson scowled eyes looking around the cafeteria for someone Danny could date that wasn’t Dash. Her silence seemed to be answer enough. She couldn’t find anyone else that she wanted to date her best friend. 

Dash was not feeling so great. Not only were they acting like he and Kwan weren’t there, but they were kind of being jerks. This was why he thought that it was crazy that Danny might have any interest in him...because he _clearly_ had zero interest in impressing Dash. It only made the comment from last night, the one about wanting to impress Dash, seem that much more like it was the beginning of a practical joke. This whole scenario felt like a practical joke. 

“You could date Wulf,” Manson said finally. 

Who the heck was Wulf? Dash wondered. Were they using code names or something? 

“I am not dating Wulf. Try again,” Danny said. Despite his words, his face turned pink around the bruise. 

Manson growled under her breath. She drummed her fingers along the table. Then she snapped her fingers. “Johnny.” 

Danny’s face went from pink to red. “No way, Sam. He’s into Jazz. And his girlfriend would kill me the rest of the way.” 

Foley coughed. 

“A sexy older guy with a motorcycle? How is that not an upgrade?” Manson said, giving Dash a dismissive once-over like he didn’t make the cut. 

“Since when do _you_ think guys are sexy?” Danny asked, sidestepping whether he actually thought this Johnny guy was an upgrade compared to Dash. 

“She’s got eyes,” Foley said, rolling his own. 

“I’ve got eyes,” Manson agreed, crossing her arms. “Just because I don’t want to date him, doesn’t mean that he can’t be aesthetically pleasing.” 

Danny’s eyes narrowed. He said nothing but the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Everyone’s arms broke out in goosebumps and Foley shivered. It got colder and colder until, in a low voice, Danny said, “I’m dating Dash.” 

Dash was reeling from the conversation that flowed pretty much without his involvement even though it was largely about him. He wasn’t normally tongue-tied but Dash couldn’t think of anything to say or find a break in their conversation to interject. If talking to Danny was riding a rollercoaster, then talking to all three of them at once was bungee jumping off a cliff. Dash wasn’t yet sure if the rope would catch him or if it would snap. 

“Look on the bright side, Sam,” Foley chimed in. He’d finished his pizza while they were arguing. “It could be worse.” 

Manson raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how’s that?” 

Foley grinned and jerked his chin in the direction of the A-listers table. “Danny could be dating Paulina.” 

“How is that worse?” Kwan asked, sounding more curious than offended. 

“Because Sam hates Paulina,” Danny said, sounding exhausted. His foot finally stilled...only for his fingers to begin tapping on the table rhythmically. 

Foley nodded in agreement. “And it’s not like you can get Dash pregnant,” he added, looking rather pleased with himself for thinking of this very obvious thing. 

A stunned silence followed Foley’s statement. Dash tried to imagine Danny and Paulina together, having babies. He couldn’t even imagine what Paulina would look like as a mother. And Danny as a dad? It didn’t seem...likely...for some reason. Considering his history of dropping - and breaking - almost everything he laid hands on, Dash would be concerned about any babies in Danny’s care. 

Danny shook his head. “I’m like eighty percent sure I’m sterile.” Though he sounded resigned, there wasn’t a hint of jest in his voice. As far as Dash could tell, he wasn’t joking. 

Manson and Foley didn’t argue. 

Kwan exchanged a look with Dash. The trio was even freakier than either of them thought. And they had been very convinced before this that they were freaky. What exactly had Dash gotten himself into? Not for the first time, Dash told himself that he could get out of it. All he had to do was break up with Danny. 

Danny nudged Dash with his elbow to get his attention, though he wasn’t looking at Dash. “If you’re done being mean to me and my boyfriend, we’re gonna go for a walk.” 

Foley grinned. “A walk, huh?” he said, tone taking on a suggestive lilt. He waggled his eyebrows. “You kids stay safe.” 

Danny rolled his eyes. He rose from his seat and gave Dash an expectant look. 

Dash and Kwan made eye contact over the table. Kwan’s shoulder twitched just slightly in a barely perceivable shrug. It was Dash’s call if Dash went off with Danny somewhere else. Apparently on a walk. Apparently alone. “Yeah. Sure.” Dash stood up, picking up his tray. 

They dropped their trays off before going outside. It was a pleasant day, warm beneath the sun but with a breeze to cool off. 

Danny sighed, looking up at the sky. He wiped his hands on his jeans. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I’m sorry about Sam and Tucker. I didn’t get a chance to tell them about us. And, well, you haven’t exactly endeared yourself to them.” After a moment, Danny held out his hand, giving Dash a shy but expectant look. 

_I should break up with him,_ Dash thought. Because this thing between them couldn’t go anywhere good. Because even though Dash wanted a boyfriend, he didn’t want one so badly that he would date Fenton. But Dash was curious. He wanted to know what Fenton’s deal was and what it would be like to have someone to love…not that he loved Fenton. Dash didn’t even _like_ him at the moment. Dash took Danny’s hand. It was small and cold in his. 

As soon as he did, Dash looked around for witnesses. 

Danny noticed but didn’t comment on it. He led Dash across the lawn, to one of the only trees on Casper High’s campus. It was an apple tree, of all things. The apples were small and green. Sunlight dappled the grass beneath it, filtered green through the leaves. Danny sat down in the grass, tugged on Dash’s hand to get him to sit down too. 

Dash sat down. His heart raced with nerves. He wondered if Danny would kiss him again. 

Instead, Danny yawned. He stretched out in the shade of the tree, laying on his back, still holding Dash’s hand. His blue eyes were half-lidded as he gazed up at Dash. “C’mon lay down. I’m not gonna bite.” With his free hand, Danny rubbed his eyes. He looked fragile and exhausted. “We’ve got twenty minutes till lunch is over. I thought we could use a cat nap.” 

Dash lay down on his back. Though Danny was completely in the shade, Dash was in the sun up to his neck. From the neck up, he was in the shade and Dash realized Danny planned it like that. The sunlight was warm, almost heavy like a blanket. It was the ground but he was comfortable and warm and the coffee didn’t work as well as he wanted it to. Dash lightly squeezed Danny’s hand. “A nap sounds nice,” he agreed. 

Danny yawned again. He squeezed Dash’s hand briefly. Then he closed his eyes. 

Dash stared at him for a little while, face turned in Danny’s direction. He let his eyes trace over Danny’s features and came to the conclusion that Danny was very pretty. His features were sharp and delicate. The bruise on Danny’s cheek was a dark rainbow of purple, blue, green, red, and black. The cut was shiny red with liquid stitches. Dash wanted to run his fingertips over the injuries. Instead, he curled his free hand into a fist. He sighed and closed his eyes and found that sleep came easily. 

They were late getting to their next classes, which they didn’t share. Dash was so comfortable that he slept through the first bell. When he did wake up, it was with the vague feeling that something was wrong but it took a few minutes to figure out what it was. 

Danny was still there by his side, small hand cold in Dash’s hand. The wind had blown his black hair into his eyes. His chest did not move. 

Dash stared for what felt like forever before he finally saw the rise and fall of breath. He _thunked_ his head back down on the grass in relief. For a second there, he’d thought Danny was dead. Which was twice in as many days. He sat up, freeing his hand from Danny’s, and brushing the grass from his hair and clothes. 

As soon as Dash pulled his hand away, Danny was awake. He sat bolt upright, not quite swinging but definitely ready to, halfway onto his feet already. Stray blades of grass colored his hair green. Before he could say a word, the second bell rang, signaling that they were late to class. “Shoot!” Danny said. 

Being late to class wasn’t something that Dash had to worry about. He rarely got into trouble. He stood up more slowly, watching Danny, glancing around to see if anyone had spotted them. He didn’t think so; they were on the side of the apple tree that faced away from the school. Dash wondered if that was intentional and couldn’t decide how he felt about it. The feeling was becoming more and more familiar. “You already have detention. Does it matter if you’re late again?” 

Danny spared Dash a look. “I’ll have to stay twice as long. Or maybe come in tomorrow. And I _can’t_ come in tomorrow because we’ve got a date.” His cheeks flushed just the faintest bit of pink at the mention of their date. 

“Better run, then,” Dash suggested, though he knew that there was no way Danny could make it. He was already late. 

Danny nodded as though this were sage advice and took off at a sprint that surprised Dash. 

Dash shook his head, a fond smile playing across his features. Then, he realized what he was doing, and stopped smiling. “This isn’t going to work,” he said aloud. No one responded, either agreeing with or refuting his claim. Dash shook his head again. He walked back into the school. 

Dash walked into Health class only ten minutes late and took his seat between Paulina and Valerie. 

The teacher was lecturing on the dangers of drugs, specifically meth. It was a fairly useless subject for the students of Casper High. As far as Dash knew, no one did anything stronger than weed, and that was only a select few students. Amity Park as a whole didn’t really have a drug problem, either. 

Almost immediately, Paulina began to hiss in Dash’s ear. She didn’t care about the teacher’s lecture on how meth ages you fifty years in a handful of years so that you look a hundred when you’re really only twenty-five. Paulina was so squeaky clean that she didn’t even smoke weed. “Dashie, why were you sitting at the loser table during lunch today?” 

Dash made a noncommittal grunt in the hopes that Paulina would lose interest and do something else. 

Instead, Valerie leaned in close on Dash’s other side. “You’re gonna get loser cooties if you sit with them.” 

If Valerie knew what Dash had been doing with Danny Fenton… Dash just shrugged. “I got my cootie shot,” he said, keeping his tone bored. 

Paulina put her hand on Dash’s arm. It was warm to the touch. “Dashie, you know that I support you one hundred percent if you’re queer, but there are so many cool guys to choose from. You don’t have to settle for a lame runt like the twink.” 

Dash wondered if she even knew what a twink was. He thought that twink was exactly his type of guy. “I’m not settling for anything. There isn’t anything between me and Fenton.” The lie tasted bad on his tongue, almost ashy. Truly, Dash didn’t know why he ever bothered attempting to lie. He was so dang bad at it that anyone could catch him in a lie and know he had something to hide. 

Which was exactly what Paulina and Valerie did. They both leaned closer to him. Valerie said, “Dash, he’s going to ruin your reputation. The star quarterback can’t be seen with that kind of trash.” 

“So I won’t be seen,” Dash snapped. He was quietly grateful that Danny did not share this class with him. Then he remembered that Manson _did_ and she usually sat. Dash looked up, saw the back of Manson’s head two desks away. Was she listening? Was she going to tell Danny? Dash’s face paled. 

“Oh, honey,” Paulina cooed. She ran her nails along the fabric of his letterman jacket. Her arm pressed against his arm, a stripe of warmth. “If you really need to have a twink, you should go for Phantom. He’ll reject you, of course, because he’s _my_ ghost boy, but you’ll at least have some dignity left.” Her eyes sparkled at the mention of Phantom. 

Valerie leaned back now, as though she didn’t want to get too close to Dash’s perceived cooties. “Fenton has zero good qualities. He’s a serious freak. And his whole family is weird.” 

“His sister is hot,” Dash muttered. He felt wholly uncomfortable, which was unusual because he would normally be ragging on the Fentons too. The whole relationship with Danny was weird to begin with and Dash was positive that he’d made a mistake by allowing things to go on as long as they had. Dash should have known that none of his friends would accept Danny as his boyfriend. Kwan was a good person who usually didn’t let the others sweep him up in their clique-y drama. He was an outlier, the exception to the rule. And Dash had been so thrown off his game that he’d forgotten. 

Valerie snorted. “If you like boring white girls.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Isn’t his sister tutoring you, Dashie?” Paulina asked. She didn’t scrunch up her nose because she was afraid of premature wrinkles, but she did manage to look mildly grossed out all the same. 

Dash nodded. “I’m her thesis or something.” 

Before they could continue the conversation, the teacher began handing out work packets. The trio fell silent, the topic of Danny forgotten for the moment. 

Dash was secretly relieved. He had a burning feeling in his gut and the suspicion that Manson had heard every word they’d said...and all of the ones that Dash _didn’t_ say. 

After a while, Paulina passed Dash a note. It was written on pink paper. **I saw the bruise on Fenton’s face. Did you put that there because he actually tried to kiss you?**

Dash read the note several times over. The words didn’t change. The burn in his gut grew hotter and his lungs felt too small. He caught Paulina’s eye and shook his head, crumpling the note in his hand. Dash held onto the note until the end of class and then threw it away. Getting out of the classroom was a relief. 

Danny and Dash only had one more class together, an elective at the very end of the day. Danny was late to this class and Dash hadn’t saved him a spot. Instead, Dash sat flanked by Dale and Star. 

Danny sat on the opposite side of the room, flanked by his two best friends, Manson and Foley. As Dash had suspected, Manson began urgently whispering to Danny the moment that he sat down. Whatever Manson had to say, didn’t seem to surprise Danny...though it did start a rather animated argument between the three of them. Their voices weren’t loud enough for Dash to hear so he didn’t know what they were saying. At one point, Danny gestured to the bruise on his face and made some quick, cutting motions. He talked and his friends listened, and then they all looked directly at Dash. 

Manson looked like she wanted to eat Dash’s liver. Or, cut it out of him anyway. She lifted her lip in a silent snarl. 

Foley looked like he would actually eat Dash’s liver if Manson cut it out of Dash first. He looked less angry than she did...but still not pleased, eyes full of distrust beneath the brim of his red beret. 

Danny had no expression on his face whatsoever. He met Dash’s eye, held his gaze for a second, and then looked away. He did not look up from his art project for the rest of the class. 

Dash’s focus started off bad today and was nonexistent by the end of school. He just sat in class, doing nothing, feelings shifting between dread and elation. When the final bell rang, freeing students from school, Dash stayed in his seat. 

Danny saw this and sent his friends ahead. 

Dash’s friends didn’t wait for him. The room slowly emptied except for the two teenagers and their teacher, who was busy packing up for the day. Dash stood and crossed the room to Danny. “I’ll see you later?” 

Danny nodded. “Probably. I only managed to get one detention today.” 

Dash wondered how he managed that but didn’t ask. 

For a second, Danny simply looked at Dash, a debate playing out on his face. Then he shook his head and offered Dash a tired smile. “I’ll see you at home.” Then he was gone. 

Dash packed up his stuff and headed for his locker. He met with his friends, exchanged brief greetings and goodbyes. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize with them right now. They would only rag on him and Dash had had enough of that for one day. What little bit of inner strength he had left, Dash was sure he would have to use for the Fenton house. 

Football practice was on Thursdays and weekends. Fridays were actual game days. So Dash had nowhere else to be but the Fenton’s house, being tutored by Jazz. As he walked there, Dash tried to decide how he felt about Jazz Fenton and how that fit in with how he felt about Danny. Just Friday afternoon, he’d been, well, not in love and not crushing. Dash could admit that he liked Jazz solely for her aesthetic features. He was attracted to her. She was a pretty girl. And she was sarcastic, but fairly nice to him. And didn’t make him feel too stupid. 

But Jazz was clever and conniving. Like Danny. Which was how she’d managed to snag her brother an invitation to Dash’s party without actually showing up herself. Dash should have been mad about that, right? She said she would go, she made him invite her annoying brother...who wasn’t quite as annoying as Dash initially thought. Dash didn’t really bother her at school and she didn’t seem interested in anyone romantically except that goth senior she hung out with. What was his name? Spike? Did Dash actually think that he had a chance with Jazz? Examining his motivations for wanting her to hang out made Dash realize that he was just hoping she would let him kiss her. He definitely didn’t think that would happen. She wouldn’t even go to his party; there was no way she’d kiss him. 

Besides, Dash was dating Danny. And he wasn’t a playboy slut like...like Danny thought. How many people thought he was a slut? Was it because quarterbacks are supposed to be sluts? Was he getting too chummy with his friends who were girls? Who exactly did Danny think that Dash was slutting it up with? The whole football team? 

Dash was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost walked past Fenton Works. He stopped, blinked up when he realized he was bathed in neon light. He had to tip his head back pretty far to view the, well, the mess of metal and machinery balanced precariously on the rooftop of the brownstone. It was an eyesore. You could see it from almost every part of the city like a beacon, if you were up high enough, and you could see the glow even if you weren’t. Dash and the other A-listers often wondered why the city put up with it. None of them could decide if the Fentons were secretly rich or if they were just too annoying for the city to deal with directly. 

Dash walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. 

In a few seconds, Jazz answered the door. “Right on time,” she said. “Let’s get started.” 

Dash entered the house and went directly to the kitchen. He’s been here often enough that he knows the way to the kitchen and to the bathroom. The rest of the house is a mystery. He’s never seen any of the bedrooms. Today, the house was quiet. “Where are your parents?” 

“Mom and dad went to a convention for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow,” Jazz said. She joined Dash in the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

Dash sat down and they began. It became obvious very quickly that Dash was not on his game today. He kept spacing out. His feelings, which he normally kept bottled up, wanted to be explored. He hadn’t yet had time to process anything that had happened since Monday night and it just kept piling on. Schoolwork was not enough to keep a lid on everything that was said and done. 

Jazz tried her best to keep Dash focused and engaged. It wasn’t her fault, though. As far as Dash knew, she had no idea about him and Danny. Nothing had been confirmed and no one had seen them sleeping together out underneath the apple tree...so it wasn’t a rumor. Yet. There was nothing for Jazz to hear. Yet. Jazz snapped her fingers in front of Dash’s face. “Dash, you’re awfully distracted today.” 

Dash started and blinked. He glanced at the papers Jazz had in front of her but didn’t recognize any of the material. “I, uh, sorry. I’ve...got a lot on my mind.” Which was the understatement of the year. 

“Well, this is really important. If you fail, you’ll be kicked off the football team and my thesis will be proven wrong.” Jazz leveled a frown at Dash. She tapped her pencil against the table in an irritated sort of way. 

The front door opened and closed. There were no footsteps. Silence in the house. Then a door upstairs opened and a door closed. More silence. The shower began to run. Danny’s voice drifted down from the ceiling. “Rule number one, is that you gotta have fun / but baby when you're done, you gotta be the first to run / Rule number two, just don't get attached to / somebody you could lose / so le-let me tell you -” 

“Ugh,” Jazz groaned, glaring up at the ceiling. Her nose scrunched in annoyance, much the same way that Danny’s did. “Ignore him. He always sings in the shower.” 

Dash imagined Danny in the shower, naked and finally warm, water running down his skin. Dash’s face warmed and in the reflection of the toaster, he saw that his face was red. He hated blushing so easily. He tried not to squirm but he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Dash flashed Jazz a look that he hoped was chill. “It’s no big deal.” 

“Boys they like the look of danger / we'll get him falling for a stranger / a player, singing I lo-lo-love you / at least I think I do,” Danny sang, oblivious to the fact that he had an audience. Dash realized that he’d missed some of the chorus and regretted talking. 

Jazz tilted her head slightly to the side. Her long orange hair fell over her shoulder. She was still gorgeous but something seemed to be different about her today. Yesterday, she’d been the hot Fenton girl that Dash couldn’t stop daydreaming about. Today, she was just Danny’s older sister. Of course she was still hot but Dash was not daydreaming about her. Jazz studied Dash with the same cold, calculating eyes that Danny did, the same thoughtful look on her face. “How was your party, Dash?” 

Dash went stiff and still like a rabbit beneath the gaze of a predator. “It was fine.” 

“Anything interesting happen?” Jazz asked casually. Her aqua eyes had gone from tropical waters to glaciers. She became still too, spine straightening, but somehow it looked authoritative when she did it. However, for all that she and Danny had the same mannerisms, there was something about Jazz Fenton that was...more human, more touchable, more warm than her little brother. She was just a person, for all that her questions made him nervous and her eyes went calculatingly cold. 

“Not really,” Dash lied. He wasn’t a good liar and he knew it. Sweat began to form under his arms. He prayed that he wouldn’t stink by the time Danny got out of the shower. He was hoping to hang out a little after tutoring and didn’t want to be gross for it. 

Above them, Danny’s voice filled the silence. “Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek / but never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat / rule number four, gotta be looking pure / kiss him goodbye at the door, and leave him wanting more, more.” He really did have a nice voice. The kind of voice that made Dash want to listen to it. 

Which was weird because normally when Dash heard Fenton’s voice, he wanted to punch something. 

“How did Danny do? He’s never been to a big party like that and he worked really hard to pay for that outfit.” Jazz’s tone was concerned, the older sister who just wanted to make sure her little brother was okay. Her aqua eyes kept Dash pinned to his chair. 

“He...uh...he hung out with my dog, mostly,” Dash said because that was true and honest. It still made him sweat and his heart thump against his chest like a rabbit’s feet against the ground. 

Jazz smiled, a bit of warmth slipping into her expression now. “I’m not surprised. Danny’s always wanted a dog.” 

Dash thought he must have misunderstood her. “Don’t you guys have a dog?” 

Jazz laughed and rolled her eyes. There was a bitter edge to her laughter. “Are you kidding? Our parents would kill it. Not on purpose, but I mean, they can barely keep us alive.” She shook her head. 

Did Danny lie to Dash? About a dog? That was such a...a stupid thing to lie about. And he’d sounded so...excited to talk about Cujo. Because he was making it up? Why would he make up having a dog? Did he think that that would impress Dash? Dash bit his lip, trying to figure out what the heck was going on here. So far every interaction with the people in Danny’s life was pretty negative...but when it was just Dash and Danny, things were pretty okay between them. It was bizarre and a little off-putting. At least Dash could be sure that his friends would react the same way to the news that they were dating. Probably. Maybe. 

In any case, Dash resolved to confront Danny about the dog. 

“Why would you think we had a dog? You’ve been here before,” Jazz said. 

“Danny said you did,” Dash admitted. 

“Huh.” Jazz tapped the eraser side of her pencil against her lip, thinking turned internal now. Then she sighed and shook her head. “So you and my brother _did_ talk?” 

Dash nodded. 

“Are you the one who hit him? I saw that bruise on his face.” 

“God, Jazz, I already told you it wasn’t Dash,” Danny’s voice came from behind Dash. He had entered the kitchen so silently that neither of them noticed. “Mom and dad did something to the blender and it hit me in the face when I got home last night. You know how they are with appliances. Remember when the vacuum got your hair?” 

The words vacuum and hair together made Dash’s scalp prickle. He twisted around to look at Danny. 

Danny was wearing Dash’s shirt. It hung in such a way that Dash could see both of Danny’s collarbones, thin and protruding. For better or worse - Dash couldn’t decide - Danny’s legs were covered by black sleep pants. The bruise on his face was a much less intense purple and the edges were more yellowish green than any other color. It was smaller too, and the cut was gone completely. Danny’s black hair stood up at all ends from being towel-dried. 

“Well you lied to Dash about having a dog. Maybe you’re lying to me about Dash hitting you,” Jazz said. She rolled her eyes. 

Danny walked past them to the fridge but paused long enough to give both of them a reproachful look, as though they’d somehow betrayed him. “I didn’t lie about having a dog. _You_ just don’t know about him.” 

Jazz perked up at this. “I understand why you feel the need to keep secrets from mom and dad, but you don’t have to keep secrets from me, Danny. You know that I love and support you unconditionally.” 

Danny pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge. It was glowing an alarming shade of neon green but Danny didn’t seem to notice. He opened the tab, put it to his lips, and tipped his head back. His throat worked as he swallowed. 

“Uh, did you know that your juice is glowing?” Dash asked. He was mildly alarmed about Danny’s health...but mostly he was wondering what the heck kind of craziness he got into. This was Danny’s life, Danny’s friends and family, and house, and everything was so weird that Dash wanted to run screaming. Why did he agree to this? Danny was even freakier than he’d thought. Which was actually a pretty high bar, Dash had thought. 

Danny glanced at the carton and shrugged. “Ectoplasm is okay for humans in small amounts.” He put the carton back in the fridge. 

Jazz didn’t argue the point about the ectoplasm, which really made Dash wonder what freaky crap these two ate. No wonder Danny was so skinny. “You aren’t hiding a dog in this house.” 

Danny plopped down at the table beside Dash. “No, I’m not.” He had a tone of voice that Dash was quickly recognizing as _addressing his sister_. “He’s at Uncle Vlad’s place.” 

Jazz’s eyes got wide. She laughed, a disbelieving sort of noise. “You’re kidding. Uncle Vlad is letting you keep a dog at his mansion?” 

Danny nodded. Beneath the table, his bare foot found the top of Dash’s sneaker. “You know how much he loves me,” Danny said in a complete deadpan. There was no affliction in his tone or expression whatsoever. 

Jazz snorted. She crossed her arms. “He’s a creep. A rich creep. This is a ploy to adopt you and get into mom’s...uh...jumpsuit.” 

Danny nodded again. 

“Your uncle wants to screw your mom?” Dash asked, feeling as though he was reaching his threshold for weird Fenton crap today. Maybe Paulina and Valerie were right. 

Both Jazz and Danny made disgusted faces in his direction. “Uncle Vlad isn’t related to us by blood or marriage or adoption,” Jazz explained. 

“Thank god,” Danny muttered. He tapped his foot against Dash’s foot. “I’m stealing your thesis subject.” This was directed to Jazz. 

Jazz glanced at the clock and pouted. “But he’s made almost no progress. He’s been even more distracted than normal.” 

“All the more reason for me to have him,” Danny said. He stood up and tugged gently at Dash’s shoulder. “Let’s watch a movie.” 

Dash stood up immediately. As odd as his conversations with Danny were, they were less odd than when there were other people around. “I’d like a movie,” Dash said. 

Danny rewarded him with a brilliant smile and bright laughter. The delight in his face and his voice was luminescent. 

It made Dash’s heart stutter and swell with feeling. 

“A movie sounds good,” Jazz said. “What are you two watching?” 

“We don’t need a chaperone; thanks,” Danny replied. “Stay out of the living room.” 

Dash followed Danny out of the kitchen and into the living room. He hoped Jazz would stay scarce. 

Danny led Dash to the couch, then pushed on his shoulders to get him to sit. Once Dash was sitting, Danny began setting up for the movie. “I hope you don’t mind two nights of movies, but I figured while I had you here…” Danny trailed off, putting a DVD into the player and then flopping onto the couch beside Dash. “And of course tomorrow we’re going to the theatre.” 

“It’s cool. What are we watching?” Dash asked. He could smell the soap on Danny’s skin and feel the coolness of his body. His heart simply wouldn’t settle down and this was directly going to cause him to bomb the test Jazz was supposed to be tutoring him for but Dash found he didn’t care in the slightest. He’d do extra credit or something; which Jazz would also have to tutor him on. 

“It’s Eight Legged Freaks. I hope you don’t mind spiders.” Danny drew his legs up to his chest. He watched Dash from the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction. 

“Dude, really? That movie’s sick.” Dash liked cheesy creature features. You’d think he wouldn’t because of the regular ghostly cryptid attacks on Amity Park, but Dash was all for fictional monsters. 

“Sweet,” Danny said, happy. Five minutes after the movie started, Danny shifted so that he was leaning against Dash’s side. He was stiff as a board for another five minutes, only relaxing once he realized that Dash wasn’t going to shove him away. 

Dash didn't think he minded Danny curled against him. Although, again, Dash noticed that Danny was chilled. It didn’t bother him at first. But the longer they sat there pressed together, the colder Dash got. It was like sitting on snow; you might not notice the chill at first but the longer you sat, the more you noticed it. “Fe-uh, Danny, you are _really_ cold.” 

Danny jerked away like he’d been burned. His face was flushed with a blush that darkened his bruise. “Sorry. I...um…” Then he began to scoot to the opposite side of the couch. 

Dash grabbed Danny’s ankle, which was currently the closest body part. Danny’s ankles were so thin that Dash could wrap his thumb and index finger around and make them touch. He felt the delicate bones like hollow birds bones and the muscle shifting above them as Danny flexed. Dash made sure that his grip wasn’t tight. “You don’t have to move.” He cast his gaze around, eyes landing on a blanket draped over the back of the couch. He grabbed the blanket with his other hand and awkwardly draped it over himself. 

From the second that Dash grabbed Danny’s ankle, Danny had gone absolutely still. He wasn’t even breathing. His wide eyes watched Dash like Dash was a snare around his leg. Danny looked like a fox caught in a trap. But then Dash grabbed the blanket and released Danny, and Danny unfroze. It was like watching ice melt into water. Stillness into motion. As soon as the blanket was in place, Danny was curled against Dash’s side again. This time the blanket took the edge off the chill he radiated. 

They were halfway through the movie when Danny whispered, “This is nice.” 

“Yeah,” Dash agreed, because it really was. He slid one arm around Danny’s shoulders, hoping that the move was more casual than it felt. 

Danny shifted to get more comfortable but otherwise didn’t comment on the fact that Dash was now holding him. The movie was old enough that they’ve seen it before and it turned out that Danny was the kind who liked to talk during movies. 

Dash joined in, making fun of the characters' decisions or commenting on the graphics. 

And Danny joined in with facts and opinions and Dash couldn’t tell which was which. Mostly, though, Danny riffed, making jokes that were actually funny. Near the end, Danny got into spider puns. He had _a lot_ of puns. 

By the time the credits began to roll, Dash’s face hurt from laughing and smiling so much. He gripped Danny’s chin, trying to silence him. “Alright, alright. I can’t take it anymore. Stop with the spider jokes.” 

Danny grinned, a challenge glittering in his sky blue eyes. “Make me.” 

Dash hesitated for only a second, before tilting Danny’s face up and kissing him. _I’m allowed to do this now_ , Dash realized when Danny didn’t push him away. 

It wasn’t until Danny kissed him in earnest, mouth moving against Dash’s mouth, drawing a needy whine from Dash’s throat, that somewhere in the back of Dash’s mind, he realized he’d lied to Kwan. What he said was that Danny was a good kisser. What he _meant_ was that he liked the feeling of Danny’s lips pressed to Dash’s skin for a few heart stopping seconds. Whether Danny was any good at kissing did not factor into those two, sweet little pecks at all. But now, Dash could say with utter certainty that Danny was a _good kisser._

Dash shifted his hand from gripping Danny’s jaw, to cupping his cheek. He felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath as his fingertips grazed the bruise coloring Danny’s face. 

Danny twisted around to kiss Dash better, rising up onto his knees. He parted his lips and his canines caught on Dash’s bottom lip. 

A jolt of pleasure shot through Dash. He moaned, the sound vibrating between them. His brain clicked off rather decisively, leaving room only for the growing desire within. For the moment, all Dash cared about was kissing Danny. 

They kissed through the credits, right up until the movie started itself over. 

Dash was the one to pull away first. He was hot, burning from the inside out, and out of breath. His cock was rock hard and his heart pounded against his chest. 

Danny’s face was flushed pink, lips wet and kiss swollen. His pupils had dilated so much that his irises were only thin blue rings that reflected the glow of the television. His breath came noticeably faster than usual, chest rising and falling rapidly. Danny searched Dash’s face, then leaned forward and kissed him again. 

Danny’s mouth had risen to an almost normal temperature, and each kiss seemed to push Dash hotter and hotter. He opened his mouth, slid his tongue along Danny’s bottom lip. He’s never kissed before this, but he’s _seen_ people kissing and read about it...and Danny hasn’t complained. 

Danny’s lips parted immediately, tongue coming out to brush against Dash’s. His fingers found the lapels of Dash’s letterman jacket and he clutched it tightly. 

Kissing with tongue was wet and slick. By the time they parted again, Dash had managed to warm Danny’s mouth even more. 

Danny abruptly fell backwards on the couch. “H-hang on…” he panted. “I just...need a minute…” His face was redder than Dash has ever seen it. He lay with his eyes closed, lips parted, legs bent at the knee. Danny looked debauched. 

Dash wanted to crawl on top of Danny and kiss him senseless, kiss him until they could work out the ache between Dash’s legs. But he’s never done anything like that, hasn’t done anything like _this_ , and it scares him. Just a little. Was a little too intense too fast. So Dash only nodded and slouched against the couch, cooling off and catching his breath. 

Time passed with silence between them but it didn’t feel awkward. 

Dash couldn’t believe that he just made out with Danny Fenton. He never in a million years thought it would happen. It never even crossed his mind as something that _could_ happen. Yet here he was, the taste of Danny in his mouth. How could something that felt so good be bad? 

“I got takeout,” Jazz’s voice was suddenly nearby. “Dash, you can have some if you like Chinese.” 

Dash jumped at the sound of Jazz’s voice, guilt suddenly slamming into him. He felt like he’d been caught doing something bad, even though all he was doing was sitting on the couch. He wasn’t even hard anymore...mostly. 

Danny practically floated off the couch. “Oh good. I was about to waste away to nothing.” He took a bag from Jazz and brought it back. 

Jazz took the armchair, making it clear that she intended to stay. She began pulling boxes from bags and opening them. There was more than enough food for all three of them, which Dash took to mean that it was expected he eat. Both Fenton teens were skilled with chopsticks. 

Dash was clumsy with them, but he could mostly manage to get food to his mouth without dropping it. 

“Dash, do you want a fork?” Jazz asked after he almost lost some orange chicken to the floor. 

“Uh, no thanks,” Dash said. Using a fork felt like giving up. 

“Stubborn,” Danny said. His tone was teasing as he rolled his eyes. 

Jazz rolled her eyes too. “Have you _met_ Dash?” 

“Hey,” Dash said, mock offended. “I know when to yield.” He accidentally dropped a piece of chicken onto the floor. 

“Sure you do,” Jazz said. 

Then they were too busy eating - and rewatching the movie - to talk. Watching the movie with Jazz was a vastly different experience than watching it with Danny. She mostly criticized the characters and couldn’t seem to suspend her belief that giant spiders could happen. Jazz and Danny also argued a lot during it. 

And Dash found himself silently watching how Danny interacted with the people around him...again. Before they began dating, Dash never gave it any mind. He just didn’t care. Danny was only a blimp on Dash’s radar when Dash was bored or angry or so full of energy that he needed to get it out somehow. 

They finished the movie for a second time. Unfortunately, the finishing of the movie didn’t come with more making out. Jazz stood up and stretched. “I’ll give you a ride home, Dash.” 

“Thanks.” Then they were piling into Jazz’s car, Danny and Dash in the backseat. 

Danny sat beside Dash in the middle seat, not leaning against him but still holding his hand. He was cold again. 

The sun was setting, casting the sky in oranges and purples toward the West and deep blue in the East. It sank rapidly and by the time they were at Dash’s house, it was dark. 

As they pulled onto Dash’s street, Danny glanced at Jazz. Then he lifted their joined hands and kissed Dash’s knuckles. It was a quick kiss and he lowered their hands to the seat between them before Jazz could see. “Bye, Dash,” he said quietly. 

Jazz stopped the car by the curb in front of Dash’s house. “We’re here!” 

“Bye, Danny,” Dash muttered. He pulled his hand free from Danny’s. Louder he said, “Thanks for the ride.” Then he got out of the car. Dash waited until they pulled away before going up to his door and opening it. “I’m home,” he called. His voice echoed. 

It took a few painful heartbeats before Dash heard the scrabble of little nails on the floors and Pookie burst into view. His little brown tail wagged and Pookie jumped onto Dash’s ankles, yipping a greeting and welcoming him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Danny sings is [How To Be A Heartbreaker by Marina and the Diamonds.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKNcuTWzTVw)
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to upload the next chapter because I've got Adrienette month and the Invsobang to prepare for so don't ask me to update.


	3. In Which The Date Doesn't Go Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Dash go on a movie date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a mention of eating disorders. Nothing graphic or in detail but it's there.

Tuesday was a bad day academically but Wednesday was better. Dash threw himself into his schoolwork with a dedication never before shown by him. He ignored or waved away almost everyone, including his boyfriend, under the guise of working hard. The teachers were thrilled by this development. Dash brushed off their praise too. 

Dash was trying very hard not to think of Danny. Specifically, not to think of making out with Danny. Every time Dash thought about making out with Danny, a thrill of pleasure went through him like a shock. He jacked off twice last night to the memory of it. During class, Dash’s mind kept straying to how good it felt to make out with Danny and he kept getting hard. 

Even though it was ridiculous, Dash felt like he’d somehow been marked. Like everyone could look at him and know what he’s been doing with Danny and with himself. They couldn’t know that, right? Danny wouldn’t tell anyone about kissing...except Manson and Foley. But who would they tell? Unless Danny wanted clout for making out with the quarterback of Casper High. 

At the end of the day, in the art class they shared together, Danny caught Dash before he left. Just a tug on his sleeve. “I’ll see you tonight?” Danny asked. His expression was guarded again. The bruise on his cheek was completely gone, his skin back to unblemished porcelain. 

“I’ll see you tonight. Seven, right?” Dash agreed, heart pounding. He glanced around but again, it was just them and the teacher left in the art room. No one would know that Dash had a date. 

“Seven,” Danny said. They left the art room and Danny disappeared into the crowd. 

Dale met Dash at their lockers. “You ready for the game this Friday, Dash?” He opened his locker and transferred his books into it. 

“Of course,” Dash replied automatically. He hasn’t even been thinking of the game. Friday feels a long ways away. “Good, good,” Dale said. He closed his locker and leaned against it. “We’ve decided to indulge your interest in the freak, but that interest had better not mess with your performance on the field, Dash.” 

“Who’s we?” Dash grunted, trying to act like nothing Dale said bothered him. 

“The team and the girls,” Dale replied. He gazed at Dash with dark eyes. “Don’t let the freak distract you from what’s important, Dash.” 

“As if,” Dash growled. He didn’t like that the others were talking about him behind his back; though it didn’t surprise him. What really irritated him was that they wouldn’t be having this conversation if Dash was dating a cheerleader or even one of the other guys on the team. It was because he was dating Fenton. “Worry about yourself, Dale.” Then Dash left, escaping school before anyone else could talk to him. 

When Dash got home, he made dinner. It was a simple meal; spaghetti and meatballs, boiled broccoli, and an attempt at garlic bread that didn’t quite turn out how Dash wanted but was still edible. He fixed his plate and ate at the kitchen counter, watching a Spanish soap opera on the tiny TV on the counter. 

Dash had a basic understanding of Spanish and though he missed a few words here and there, the sheer drama of what was happening on screen made up for it and he followed along easily. 

After he ate, Dash made a plate for his mom and put it in the microwave. He washed and dried the dishes by hand since their dishwasher was broken and had been for a year. Mom hadn’t gotten around to calling a repairman to come and fix it. 

Dash glanced at the clock and decided he didn’t have time to take Pookie to the park today. Instead, he fed Pookie and took the old dog outside to use the bathroom. He grabbed the phone off the wall and dialed Kwan’s number. 

“I was wondering when you were going to call, bro,” Kwan said before Dash could speak. 

Dash sat on his back steps and scowled. “How’d you know I was going to call?” 

Kwan laughed. “You think I don’t know you?” 

Dash _humphed_. “I have a date tonight.” 

“I read the note too,” Kwan reminded him. 

“I don’t even know what to wear!” Dash said, letting some of the panic slip into his voice. Even as he said it, a voice in the back of his head said _something warm._

“Clean clothes,” Kwan suggested. “Cleanliness is hot. So before your date, you’ve got to do the three S’s.” 

Dash struggled to think of what that meant for a few seconds before giving up. “What does that mean?” 

“Shit, shower, and shave,” Kwan said, amusement making his voice a purr. “In that order.” 

Pookie returned to Dash with an old squeaky toy in his mouth. He dropped it onto Dash’s sneakers. 

Dash picked it up and threw it across the yard. “I don’t think I’ve got to worry about shaving.” He didn’t exactly have much in the way of body hair and what he did have, he kinda wanted to keep. 

Kwan snorted into the phone. 

“Do you think I should bring money? I should have asked who was paying for what.” Was Dash expected to pay for himself? Should he pay for anything at all? Danny was supposed to be the one romancing him. Did that make Dash a leech? Or a girl? Maybe he should just pay for his own ticket. Why didn’t he ask Danny about this earlier? He didn’t even have Danny’s phone number or email so he couldn’t get ahold of him. How did he not think to ask for Danny’s info? 

“Uh…” Kwan said. “I honestly have no idea, man. The Fenton’s don’t really talk about their finances.” 

They lapsed into a contemplative silence. How much money the Fenton’s had was a hotly debated topic but no one had any idea. Pookie brought the toy back and Dash threw it again. 

Tentatively, Dash broke the silence. “He’s kind of skinny, isn’t he?” Then again, Dash thought, remembering the glowing orange juice, that could have to do with what was available in his fridge. 

“I don’t think that has to do with how much money they make. If it was like that, Danny wouldn’t skip lunch as often as he does,” Kwan said slowly. “I think that might be more like...like Paulina’s complicated relationship with food.” _Complicated relationship with food_ was what they called Paulina’s eating disorder. 

“Oh,” Dash said stupidly. He thought of Danny’s hollow cheeks and jutting collarbones and the delicate bones in his slender ankles. “Yeah. Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before.” 

They lapsed into another silence, this one uneasy. 

“It might not be like that,” Kwan said after a while. “I’m just guessing. I don’t have any proof.” 

“Me either,” Dash admitted. Over the years, he hasn’t given Danny much thought but it seemed like the boy was on his mind constantly now. It almost felt like Dash didn’t have room for anything except for Danny in his head. “He’s so _weird_.” 

“Yeah, he is. But do you like it? Is it, like, a weirdness you can live with?” 

Dash considered this. “Maybe,” he said eventually. 

Pookie lost interest in the toy. He looked expectantly at Dash, waiting for him to open the back door. 

Dash sighed. “I’ve gotta go get ready. I still have homework to do.” 

“Alright, bro. Have a good date. And don’t be nervous,” Kwan said. Then he hung up the phone. 

Dash stood up and let Pookie back inside. He put the phone back on the holder and went upstairs to do his homework. It felt nice to focus on something that wasn’t Fenton and the mess Dash had gotten himself into. He finished up with plenty of time to shower before taking the bus over to the theatre. 

There were more people on the bus than Dash was comfortable with but if he didn’t get on, he would be late. He was forced to share a seat with a middle aged woman who bobbed her head along to the music playing in her headphones. She got off at the stop before Dash’s, and the seat was taken by a junkie whose sweat smelled like alcohol. 

Dash grit his teeth the whole ride, and pressed as close to the window as he could. It was a relief to get off the bus and into the cool night air. He walked a block and arrived at the theatre. 

Danny was waiting outside of the theatre for him. His black hair looked windswept. He wore a light jacket, hands shoved in his pockets. His sky blue eyes flitted from person to person, expression bored. Then he spotted Dash walking up the sidewalk and Danny pushed himself off the wall. He smiled. “I got our tickets already.” 

Dash blinked in surprise. “Thanks.” He came to a stop beside Danny. 

Danny reached up on his tiptoes. 

Dash suddenly realized Danny was going to kiss him and backed away. His face burned. 

For a brief second, Dash thought he saw Danny’s eyes flash bright green. It was only for a second, though, and Dash decided it was probably just the nearest traffic light reflecting green off his eyes. Danny’s lips thinned and he didn’t look happy but he didn’t say anything except, “Let’s go in and get good seats.” 

They didn’t touch or talk as they got their tickets cut and walked to the right theatre. Dash led the way to the top row of seats and chose a pair in the middle. He sat down...but Danny didn’t. 

“I’ll go get some snacks. You like cream soda, right?” Danny said, voice tight. 

Dash blinked in surprise. He didn’t know Danny paid that close attention to him. “Yeah.” Then, because he felt bad about rejecting Danny - which was stupid - he added, “Do you want help -” 

But Danny was already walking back down the stairs. He didn’t turn around. 

Dash briefly wondered if he was going to be ditched here. Well, at least he would enjoy the movie and he didn’t have to pay for his ticket. Dash bounced his leg, couldn’t help the restlessness that suddenly filled him. He shouldn’t feel guilty about not letting Danny kiss him. He shouldn’t. Dash was within his rights to refuse. And it’s not like they even liked each other. This was all an act. 

Danny returned with two sodas and two boxes of candy just before the previews started. He handed over one of the sodas and candy boxes, then sat down. He didn’t drink his soda or eat his candy. While the previews played, Danny was silent. He kept his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Was Danny sulking? Why did it matter to him if Dash didn’t let him kiss him? It’s not as if any of this was real. It’s not like Danny had feelings for him. 

The lights went down, throwing everyone into bluish darkness. Danny’s eyes reflected the light of the screen, looking like they were almost glowing faintly. He finally pulled his hand from his pocket and reached across the armrest. His fingers grazed Dash’s forearm, trailed down until he felt skin, and then their fingers were laced together. Despite being in his pocket, Danny’s hand was still chilly. 

Because it was the middle of the week, the theatre wasn’t too crowded, only diehard romance fans were at the showing. Between the almost empty theatre and the fact it was dark, no one could see them. 

Dash took his hand back only long enough to open his candy, then he slid his fingers back between Danny’s. He put the box of candy between his thighs and snacked on it with his free hand. They were Milk Duds. A good choice. 

After a while, Danny’s thumb moved along the skin between Dash’s thumb and index finger. It was only a back for forth motion, a gentle little rub, but it was distracting. 

Dash found that he didn’t mind. Half his attention was on the movie and the other half was on Danny’s hand in his. 

The movie itself was good and had some funny parts that made Dash laugh out loud, along with others in the theatre. 

Other than holding hands, Danny didn’t try anything else. He sat and watched the movie in silence. The stark difference between listening to and joking with Danny at home and sitting here in silence really made Dash think that they should do home movies more often. Plus there was making out and no one at home to see...more or less. 

The movie ended and the lights came up. A cheery pop song played in the end credits. Dash pulled his hand from Danny’s. He hoped it looked natural as he gathered up their - his - trash. If only so that Danny wouldn’t keep sulking. It rubbed Dash the wrong way when it wasn’t something he did intentionally. 

Danny didn’t move, which meant that they were just standing there rather awkwardly. 

The rest of the people filed out of the theatre. When they were alone, Danny turned to Dash. He reached on his tiptoes and kissed Dash. 

This time, Dash allowed it. Though it made him nervous. What if one of the ushers saw? Did it matter if the ushers saw? They weren’t anyone to worry about. Probably. 

Before the kiss could turn into anything other than a lingering peck, Danny dropped back to his heels. He led the way out of the theatre just as the first ushers were coming in. His timing was kind of impressive. 

Dash followed and threw away his trash. He noticed that Danny hadn’t even opened his candy. 

“So is it that you don’t want to be seen with me or are you still in the closet?” Danny asked once they exited the theatre. He sounded annoyed. 

Dash’s eyes widened. He knew that Fenton had balls but Dash never expected to be called out. Danny’s annoyance would normally bring Dash glee, and maybe it still did a little, but his question was also addressing something that Dash hadn’t even addressed with himself yet. Dash opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, but about to say _something._

“Because I’ll understand if you’re still in the closet and don’t want to come out publicly. But you said you wanted romance and that includes all the stupid little physical stuff too. So that’s what I’m trying to do.” Danny’s next exhale was a visible cloud, as though the temperature around him dropped to twenty degrees. Danny scowled at his breath. He glanced up at Dash, expression suddenly distant and distracted. “Look, I’ve got to go. You take a while and think about what you want and get back to me.” Then, Danny turned heel and ran. He sprinted around the corner of the theatre and was gone. 

Dash’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he just ditched? Did Danny Fenton just ditch him? _Him?_ On their date? Indignation and irritation bubbled up within Dash. What was this little punk’s problem? Was he really that angry Dash didn’t let him kiss him? Really?! 

Then there was a streak of black and white. 

Dash was distracted from Danny by the arrival of Phantom. His heart swelled at the sight of the ghost boy. He was so beautiful. With snowy white hair and glowing green eyes, Phantom was gorgeous. Shadows shifted beneath his skin, giving it an eerie, muted sort of look. 

Phantom flew past Dash, his legs turned into a long ghostly tail streaming behind him. His hair was windswept, which made sense because of all the flying he did. 

Another ghost chased him. This one was five times as big, would have towered over Dash, and five times as wide. His skin looked like it was made of metal, as though he was a cyborg. “I will hang your pelt over my mantle, ghost boy,” the large ghost said. His teeth were like zippers, his hair was green flame. 

Phantom hovered and rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know that ghost boy pelt is so last season?” He mocked. Then he dove headfirst for the larger ghost. 

The resulting collision sent them both crashing through the wall of the movie theatre. Sometimes ghosts turned intangible when they did stuff like that but not this time. They broke through the brick and right into the theatre. 

Human screams followed the crash. 

Dash stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move to either get out of the way or to check on the ghost boy. 

A flash of blue showed from the hole in the building and then the larger ghost was coming out. He dragged a net behind him. Caught within it was Phantom, looking scrunched up and tiny. “I’ve got you now, ghost boy.” 

Even though the glow of the net, Dash could see how Phantom’s eyes flashed bright green…and so did his hands. In a matter of seconds, the blue net disintegrated and Phantom burst through it. “You’ll have to try harder, Skulker,” Phantom snarked. “And you call yourself a great hunter.” He shook his head, falsely pitying. 

A tiny gun appeared from Skulker’s wrist and he shot at Phantom. 

Phantom dodged easily. He zoomed and darted around like a hummingbird, never staying in one place for long. 

The ghosts flew off into the night, taking the fight elsewhere. 

Normally seeing Phantom made Dash’s heart swell like a balloon with positive feelings. Tonight, his joy was tempered by Danny’s...thing. Did they get into a fight? Was Dash fighting with his boyfriend? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt lousy. 

Dash took the bus home. He found a seat he didn’t have to share and scowled at anyone who looked like they might want to change that. Going home this late at night, there were less people on the bus. Mostly the homeless and the junkies and runaways who didn’t have anywhere else to sleep. He tried not to think about his date with Danny. Frankly, it hadn’t gone very well. 

The radio was turned on on the bus and Dash was drawn out of his sulking by the name Phantom. An announcer watching the fight live said that Phantom was just stabbed. 

There were worried murmurs on the bus. One angry person even cheered the news, but was quickly hushed. “Well he’s already dead. It’s not like it’ll hurt him,” someone said. Whether or not ghosts had feelings or nerve endings was a hot debate. Amity Park’s resident ghost hunters, the Fenton’s, very firmly said that ghosts felt nothing physically or emotionally. 

Dash thought you just had to look at Phantom to know that he felt things. Most of Casper High agreed with him. Adults were just stupid. But like the other person said, Phantom was already dead. And he’s always bounced back before. Still, the news was bad on top of everything else. 

At home, Dash kicked off his shoes and ignored Pookie’s greeting. He trudged upstairs. Now that he was alone, the dam holding back all of his feelings was beginning to break. 

Dash threw himself into bed and reached for a teddy bear. Instead, he found Danny’s tank top. Dash stared at it for a moment. _He said it was stupid. All the stupid little physical stuff._

Something burned within Dash, a feeling difficult to name. Probably a cocktail of feelings, really. Shame and loneliness, anger and hurt. Dash tossed the tank top away. He rolled out of bed, threw open his closet door, and snagged one of the teddy bears. Then he returned to bed and hugged the bear to his chest. His heart pounded uncomfortably fast and his face warmed as though he were feverish. 

_He said it was stupid. Holding hands and cuddling, and kissing and making out. All stupid._ Tears prickled in Dash’s eyes and rolled down his face. A low, distressed whine came from his throat. Even seeing Phantom didn’t cheer Dash up tonight. The whine turned into a sob. _I’m so stupid_ , Dash thought as he cried over a boy he didn’t even like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time. The next one might be longer. All the movie dates I've been on have been boring. And I thought that it would be a good place to break because fun things are coming up.


End file.
